


Promise Me

by BellarkeBelle



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Asexuality, Canon, Canon Compliant, Demisexuality, F/M, Multiship, Pregnancy, Two Years Later, will likely tag later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2018-12-26 21:04:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12066954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellarkeBelle/pseuds/BellarkeBelle
Summary: When the Cooper curse hits again, and the third in line is faced with the uncomfortable realities of a teen pregnancy, Betty is determined to do things differently. She's not sure how, but once she sets her mind on something, she tends to get her way.If you asked Jughead Jones to describe himself, "father-material" is not one of the things that would come out of his mouth. Yet in a few short months, that's exactly what he has to become.Can the two teens survive another life-shaking turn of events? Or will they find their paths diverging, long before either had ever intended?ft. the usual lovable cast of characters





	1. Eye of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in the works for quite some time, and while I'm very excited to get it out there, I'm very nervous for it to leave the safety of a personal folder on my computer. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I've enjoyed writing this monster of definitely-not-a-oneshot-whoops 
> 
> Updates weekly!

Jughead wondered if this was what it was like for everyone. The strawberry milkshake had smelled like her shampoo and suddenly he was thinking about the way she’d smiled at him before she went to practice and the clattering of his fingers on the keys faded away, his hands coming to fiddle with his own hair, his eyes trapped in a dream that had nothing to do with his manuscript. Infatuation was terribly distracting, but suddenly, for the first time, he understood the appeal. It was a subject he was coming to recognize as the movie-worthy obsession society considered it. With a snort, he forced his attention back to the blinking cursor in front of him - _this_ however, was not recognizable as even resembling movie-worthy. 

Aside from the protagonist, the characters were accessories, 2-dimensional, characterized only by one or two motivating qualities - delicious, but with the nutritional value of shortbread. He sighed, and reached for the espresso shots in front of him, dumping them into his milkshake. The waitress made a disgusted face he assumed was unintentional and he bit back a laugh with a shrug. What could he say? He liked to multitask. 

Beside him, his phone buzzed. Before, he wouldn’t have bothered to check it, but now there was _Betty_ , and he couldn’t help himself. 

**Betty Cooper:**

**__**_Should be done in 20. Shower and meet you at Pop’s?_

He didn’t bother to try and stop his grin this time. _I’ll be here._ He texted back, before squinting at the computer in front of him. A few words from Betty was better than all the espresso in the word and suddenly the pieces began to click, one right after the other, and he was so absorbed in putting the pieces together that he almost didn’t notice the dizzying blonde sliding in across from him. Almost. 

“Think I can get an autographed copy of that, Mr. Jones?” She twisted a smile toward him, and he couldn’t help but mirror her. 

“All due respect, Miss, but you don’t even know what it is.”

“But I can tell by the way you’re working on it it’ll be amazing.”

He broke character. “I hope so, Betts, but it’s got a long way to go.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“Nah,” He waved her off, snapping the computer shut and putting it aside. “How was practice?” 

Betty groaned, slumping forward onto the table in an abrupt shift from her perfect posture. 

“That good, huh?” 

She made another indiscernible noise into the crook of her arm. 

“Why don’t I buy you a milkshake? I hear ice is good after a workout.” 

“Cheryl says I need to be cutting calories now that I’m a senior, set a good example for the new Vixens” Her words were muffled, but he understood them perfectly. He grimaced, allowing the expression for as long as she couldn’t see it. That _bitch._

“Cookies and cream?”

“Yes please.” 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

She had been planning to tell him, she had, but when she saw him, raven curls escaping from beneath his beanie, fingers flying and brows furrowed as he went spinning through the world he had created on his computer screen, she hadn’t been able to. The only thing she _had_ been able to do was stop herself from replacing the teeth sunk in his bottom lip with her own. So she said nothing, and let him ply her with sugar and cream instead. 

God, has his smile always been that blinding? 

A quick reference to the long summers that split the dull years of elementary school confirmed, that, yes, making Jughead smile had always been a ‘crowning’ achievement of hers, so to speak. They’d always been close, the two of them, half in love with Archie who was half in love with anything that moved. She liked that about her best friend, if she was being honest, that he fell in love so easily, so deeply, that anybody could be worth the bad poetry that comprised his three chord lyrics. 

Jughead asked what she was thinking about, and she told him, laughing when he laughed, and launching eagerly into trashing their treasured third’s enthusiastic but raw attempts at cracking the music industry. Talented girls liked Archie, and they liked him a lot - if he had any shot of getting where he wanted to be, it would be through them. But Betty and Jughead believed in him all the same. He was Archie, and who could say no to _Archie_?

At the time, sipping milkshakes and holding hands, the day wasn’t a particularly special one. Nothing would have made it jump out in her memory. It was a day in which she carried a secret like a rock in her breast pocket, but there were many days like those, a life of days like those, and this day, at this time, it didn’t seem special, but when she looked back, searching for a start, she decided it had been there, then. 

It was the day Jughead brought her a milkshake and she looked him in the eyes and, just like every other day, couldn’t bring herself to hand him another stone, another burden, another thing to drag him down when all she wanted to do was lift him up. It was the day Jughead let her read a new piece of freshly revised script and she recognized in it, just as she did every day, incredible talent, brewing just behind a surface of inexperience and self-doubt. It was the day he walked her home, and kissed her goodnight. It was the day she had every day, but it was the day the storm began to brew.

Well, it was the day six and a half weeks after the storm began to brew, but the moisture now hung in the air, thick, and electricity crackled, poised for the havoc it would bring.

“Betty?” Her mother’s voice floated down the hall, just ahead of her footsteps. Alice entered the room with no other warning, but brought a softness Betty didn’t recognize.

“Mom?” There was a note of alarm she couldn’t keep from her voice, but it was nearly drowned out by confusion. 

“Your father is going to find out.” Alice’s voice was steady, and gentle, and heavy with resignation. 

“Find out what?”

Her mother held her hand aloft, displaying, with limp protrusion, the white length of plastic it held.

Betty was silent. It wasn’t a voluntary silence, but rather a case of too many thoughts crammed into a single door frame, packed so tightly not a one could get through. Nails bit into her palms. 

“How long?”

“Six weeks? Give or take.”

“Who knows?”

“You, me.”

“Oh, Sweetie.” Her mother’s voice was still cloying, still protective, and all Betty could think about was Polly. Something bone-deep in her was woke up, and her heart began to pound with a strength that she could feel in the clench of her teeth. 

“I didn’t want to go away, and I didn’t want it to go away, and I didn’t see another option.” She couldn’t help the tears that sprung to her eyes, but she forced her chin up as her cheeks dampened. Alice stepped forward, wrapping her in her arms, and despite herself, she fell into the embrace of her mother, let familiar hands stroke against her back, let the shoulder she had cried on so many times once again catch her tears.

When the whisper came, she had almost forgotten to be ready for it. 

“Sometimes things you don’t want still have to happen.”

She pulled away, burned, but her mother kept a grip on her shoulders. 

“Me, Polly, you, it must be a Cooper curse.” Alice’s own tears made the proffered smile watery. “But you know what has to happen, Betty.” 

“Haven’t you learned anything? Can’t you try another tactic? The last one didn’t work out so well, if you remember.”

“If you stay here, you will be fighting your father with every breath you take, and trust me, Betty, you won’t win.” She knew Alice was speaking from experience, but she still pushed the words away, unwilling to hear them.

“Jughead isn’t a Blossom, and I won’t even miss graduation. I’m not going to ruin anyone’s life, not even my own, and I won’t pull him into this unless he wants to be a part of it. This can happen!”

“College, Betty, your _future_. You must be insane if you think I’d ever let you throw that all away, if you think any good parent would let you do that.” The cold clarity of her mother’s voice was back, and Betty let it snap into her with something close to relief. But a beat later, she tried again, some small amount of softness leaking back in, pleading as she had never tried with Polly, as Hal had never tried with her. “You can have kids later, with Jughead even, if the two of you want, but when it’s a choice, when you can give them a life you feel proud to give them. Not when you have a high school diploma and a pile of abandoned dreams.”

Betty couldn’t stop the sob that threatened to strangle her as she watched, not for the first time, Columbia - with her freshmen roommate, and her first apartment, and internships and a career and all the little moments in between, suddenly replaced with diapers, and snot, and scrounging for quarters in the couch cushions to put a little more gas in some falling-to-pieces car. “I can’t give it up mom, it’s mine.”

“Women have to do the impossible everyday.” There was no room for disagreement. “You can stay until graduation.” The declaration was just as firm, but Alice seemed to need to convince herself. “I’ll make sure of it.”

The next day Betty woke to red rimmed eyes underlined with dark bags, and her face pressed into the childhood stuffed bear she still clutched to her chest. It was crusty with dried snot and spit. 

When she left for the day, her eyes were bright, and not a hair strayed from her ponytail as her skirt swished a good few inches above the knee as she walked.

“Veronica!” She called, in a tone so normal she felt a swell of genuine pride.

“B!” The dark haired girl lit up, grabbing her arm and tugging her to the lockers. “My dad’s going back to jail!”

“And that’s… a good thing?”

“The greatest. All I have to do is cry at the trial while I beg the jury not to take away my father again and then the controlling son-of-a-bitch is done ruining people’s lives - including my own - for another six to eight years!” Veronica was practically singing. 

“But he’s your dad, V, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Positive. So sure, in fact, that I was thinking we should have a _proper_ celebration. My house, this friday, core crew only.”

“Fancy cheese and organic fruit?”

“More like 300 year old wine and top shelf liquor.”

Betty’s stomach turned. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how wine works.”

“Who cares? Daddykins bought it, and we’re going to drink it.”

And with that, she was gone, disappearing into a nearby classroom with the sound of the bell and leaving Betty with a thousand unheard pleas dying on her tongue.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Something was up with Betty. And, when he thought about it, something had been up for a while. He hadn’t wanted to push, wanted to let her come to him in her own time, if and when she needed him, but it had been weeks, and it didn’t look like it was getting any better. She may have been able to cover some signs of her exhaustion with concealer, but nothing could hide the bloodshot eyes she walked into school with every morning. Today she’d come in with a bounce in her step and a smile on her face, but eyes so red she looked three blunts in. 

It had to stop. But hard as he tried, he couldn’t seem to catch her. When he saw her in the halls, she just quirked him a grin and flounced past, when he tried to corner her at lunch she towed him over to their table so fast he hadn’t been able to get a word out. And now, after school when they usually caught a few minutes before cheerleading, she had run off to get in some “extra practice”. He pulled out his phone with a frown. 

_Betty Cooper, are you avoiding me?_

He didn’t get a reply, but then, he wasn’t expecting one, at least not until after she got out, but as the time slid away, and there was still nothing, he began to worry. Betty was a big girl, and he’d have to be Archie to think she couldn’t take care of herself by now, but he still couldn’t help himself, as, despite his deepest distaste for the act itself, he once again withdrew his phone from his pocket. This time to tap a single ‘ _?’_ into the keyboard before pressing send.

It was late by then, the time when Betty would usually be joining him at Pops to look over the day’s work, and make plans for the weekend, and dream about the future. This time, however, he at least got a response. 

**Betty Cooper:**

**__**_Sorry! I saw your text during practice and then forgot about it - practice ran late, Cheryl is stopping just shy of bringing in a whip at this point._

_Raincheck on Pop’s?_

**Jughead Jones:**

**__**_No worries. Is everything okay?_

**Betty Cooper:**

**__**_Yes!_

_Missed you today._

_I love you._

**Jughead Jones:**

**__**_Ditto._

**Betty Cooper:**

**__**_Jughead Jones!_

**Jughead Jones:**

**__**_I missed you too. I love you too._

**Betty Cooper:**

**__**_Better._

**Jughead Jones:**

**__**_If you came here I could really make it better._

_With my mouth._

_On your mouth._

**Betty Cooper:**

**__**_Don’t torture me with things I can’t have._

**Jughead Jones:**

**__**_Oh, you can have me. Any time you like._

**Betty Cooper:**

**__**_Except when you’re feeling sex-repulsed._

**Jughead Jones:**

**__**_Oh so now the truth comes out. All this time and you only wanted me for my body._

**Betty Cooper:**

**__**_Something like that._

_I gotta go - study time._

**Jughead Jones:**

**__**_Okay but give some thought to that mouth-to-mouth thing._

_And I don’t mean CPR ;)_

**Betty Cooper:**

**__**_Ha. Tempting._

It wasn’t enough, but then, he could never get enough of her. Eventually, she’d have to tell him what was wrong, but in the meantime he was going to call it a night, mind too full of her lips on his, her hair in his hands, her body on his. How could allo people get anything done? It was a wonder the human race, disaster that they were, had even gotten as far as they had if this was how 99% of the population was wired. After a moment, Jughead chalked it up to the aspec 1%. At the foundation of any empire, he was willing to bet you’d find someone like him.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

He was there when she left for school that morning, standing at her door, fist poised to knock, motorcycle waiting just yards away. He was there, blue eyes and lopsided grin and all she could think about were the prenatal vitamins she had just swallowed, somehow heavier now in her stomach than they had been in her hand. 

“Hey Suzie Q, can I take you to school?”

“I worry about you Jug, I have some real, valid concerns when it comes to you.”

“As you should, Babygirl, as you should.”

Betty laughed, loud and bright at the ridiculous endearment dropping from her boyfriend’s lips, and the smile he gave her in response was the kind of look she would do anything to keep there, so she swallowed hard against the vitamins she could feel in her throat, and unclenched her fists. He swung onto the motorcycle and she raced to hop on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging her body as close as she could, the embroidered serpent stretched across his back rough against her cheek. 

The whole ride to school she kept her face buried in his shoulder, ostensibly to keep out of the wind, but mostly to keep as much contact with him as possible. When they arrived, tugging their backpacks from the ‘trunk’, he spun her to face him and she acquiesced easily to his direction, leaning in to press their lips together, to press herself against him once more. His arm snaked around her waist, the other coming to cup her jaw, slide back to pull out her ponytail, tangle in her hair. Somewhere, someone wolf whistled, but she couldn’t begin to care as heat flowed through her, pooling in her belly as she pressed closed and closer. 

She was dazed when he pulled away, stood blinking for long moments as he smirked at her, entirely too impressed with his own work and not enough at hers. 

“You should be breathless, Jones.” She muttered, scowling up at him. 

“Oh I’m much worse, I’m bloodless.” He gestured from his head to the bulge in his jeans. “But we have to get to class, and _you_ have to agree to talk to me during lunch.”

“I always talk to you, we’re always talking. When we’re not together we’re still talking.

Check your phone if you don’t believe me.” She babbled, wondering if she could kiss him again without being late for class.

“Betty, what I mean is, we need to talk, and you can’t keep avoiding me.” 

“Oh.” The pit in her stomach was back, the stone in her pocket dragging her down, but not into the ground, away from view like she hoped. 

“Please? I know something’s wrong. I just… I was hoping you’d want to talk to me but it’s not getting better, and at the very least, at least let me be there for you?”

“Juggie…” A plea, and excuse, a way out, but none of them came.

“Promise me?”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath, “But it’s going to take a lot longer than lunch.”

“Alright.” She saw worry cloud his lovely blue eyes, and she pressed a kiss to his cheek before heading to class, the best assurance she could give him, when there was no assurance to give. 

She caught Veronica just as the brunette was walking into class.

“Betty Cooper, asking me to cut class?” Her friend stretched out the accusation, but followed, eyes glittering with amusement and curiosity. 

Once she had pulled the other girl into the office of the Blue and Gold and closed the door, she started talking and couldn’t stop. She told her about her mom, and Polly, and now her, and the future she was never going to be able to have unless she paid a price she didn’t think she could pay. About how, now, Jughead was going to have to make the same decision, and he didn’t know that yet, but he would today, and she didn’t know how to tell him. She told her other things too, things she didn’t even know she needed to say. About how she cried all the time, no matter what emotion it was in response to. About how her breasts hurt _all the time_. About how no matter what she did her libido was probably the most functioning part of her brain because she could forget why she walked into a room but the ache between her legs was pretty much just a part of her existence now. She talked about the doctor’s visits and how scary it had been to go alone but how much scarier it was to go with her mom. She told her everything she hadn’t been able to tell anyone for a month and a half, and she told her and told her until there was nothing left to say, and all she could do was cry. 

There were a lot of things in her life that Betty Cooper wasn’t proud of, but crying on the floor of her high school while she cut class to tell her best friend she was going to be a teen mom? It pretty much topped the list. 

Veronica, for her part, stepped right into action, joining her on the floor and pulling her half into a hug, half into her lap. For a long time, she didn’t say anything, just rocked back and forth and pet her hair, still loose from it’s usual tight hold. When she finally ran dry, and the wracking stopped shaking her body, Veronica took her chin in her hand, and tipped her face up to meet the other girl’s gaze. 

“Betty, I am so sorry you felt for a _second_ that you couldn’t tell me this. I am here for you now, and no matter what happens, and no matter what you decide, I will support you 100%. I mean that. I will support you emotionally, physically, financially-” She cut Betty’s burgeoning protests off with a stern wave of her hand, “because I am your friend, and you are the closest thing to a sister I will ever have, and because you are in the shittiest of shitty situations, and I love you. Now let’s get off the floor, and figure out what you’re going to tell Jughead.” 

Betty nodded, and let Veronica help her up into a real hug before they sat down. 

“All I want to say is I’m sorry. But I don’t think that would go over too well.”

Veronica laughed, a flat, barking noise. “No, probably not.”

The girls leaned into each other across the table, murmuring quietly for hours, their hands clasped together, and for the first time since Betty’s birth control controlled period had been late, the stone in her pocket lightened. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the love you guys!

The day was dragging, even for a school day, and Jughead could barely stand it. Betty hadn’t been in any of their classes, hadn’t even come to lunch, and when she didn’t respond to any of the 13 text messages he shamefacedly sent her, one after the other, he began to panic. 

Panic, for a Jones, was never a good thing. It meant drinking, or fighting, or the general destruction of oneself, others, and/or nearby property. This was also what happened when a Jones got angry, or sad, or felt any emotion they didn’t know how to handle. At least, that’s what Jughead had learned from watching FP. 

So he took deep breaths, counted out the slow seconds as the minutes limped by in some sludgy half-form of time. He did his best not to let his imagination run away with him, but he couldn’t help but wonder what it was she was going to tell him - if something was wrong with Polly or the twins or her parents. For a heart-stopping moment he thought of her moving away, before forcing the idea far, far away. Whatever it was, they would tackle it together, as best they could.

The only exciting thing that happened that day was the red spray-paint slung anxiously over his beautiful bike. _Serpent Slut_ had become it’s own sort of Riverdale-douche tag, and with whatever it was drowning Betty at the moment, he was sure the reminder of their reputation wouldn’t be helpful. Honestly, he was just lucky FP adored Betty so much, because the second he texted his father the man was already on his way to swap out his old beat-up jalopy for his son’s bike, offering to get it cleaned and tuned up that night.

He was going to miss riding home too-fast around the corners that night, but it wasn’t hard to decide if it was worth it. 

Lunch came, and somehow, Archie noticed something was up through his usual shroud of obliviousness. It probably had something to do with Veronica’s absence that had him seeing a little more clearly. 

“You okay, man?” He asked,doing his best to force more food into his mouth than it could safely fit.

“ _I’m_ fine, but I think something’s wrong with Betty. Has she told you anything?”

“No, but Veronica told me that Cheryl’s put the River Vixen’s on another diet. Maybe she’s just hungry.”

Jughead huffed out a laugh, and despite his best efforts, the sound harsh even to his own ears. “I don’t think that’s it, man.”

Archie shrugged, “I don’t know what to tell you, Jughead, she hasn’t said anything to me.”

“Some douchebag tagged my bike again.”

“Fuck, dude.”

They ate in silence for a moment.

“How’s it going with Veronica?”

Archie lit up. “Holy shit, her parents went out of town for trial stuff, and I swear to god, we had sex for like two and a half hours yesterday.”

“That’s… nice.”

“Grundy knew what she was doing, but she would always get annoyed when I didn’t, Val just told me what to do, and Melanie, honestly I don’t even know what that was - Veronica’s happy to just like, explore. Dude, I swear, I think she’s it for me. She’s the one.”

“Archie you have said that about every girl you’ve even thought about kissing since pre-school.”

“But none of them were _Veronica_.”

“Dude you’ve said that about _Betty_.”

“And I was right! She _is_ the one! Just, you know, for you, not me.”

Jughead rolled his eyes. “If that’s how that works then you’ve never been wrong, seeing as I’m sure eventually all of those girls will get married.”

“Even Reggie?”

“You thought _Reggie_ was the one?”

“I guess not, I think we were just fucking around.”

“Oh boy.”

“Look, whatever’s going on with Betty, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. She’s crazy about you.”

“I’m not worried about _that_ , I’m worried about _her_.”

Archie, apparently out of advice, just shrugged and returned to waxing poetry about a new song he had written for Veronica. He was hoping she’d sing it with him, a love song about their love, and Jughead didn’t quite have the heart to tell him his current not-quite-girlfriend was not-quite as into him as he was into her. He did manage to throw in a couple “Maybe you should slow it down”s before the lunch bell rang and he was off to three more endless classes before he could go to Pop’s and wait another two hours for Betty there. 

Honestly, he could see the appeal of getting drunk. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Two hours of Cheryl running her ragged with the River Vixens was exactly what Betty needed, throwing herself first into the conditioning, and then into the routine with a single-minded determination that had even the fiery-haired head cheerleader nodding reluctant approval.

“Very good, Cooper, those extensions are coming along nicely. It’s almost a good thing your uniform fits so tight, I can really see all of your lines. Keep it up.” 

“Cheryl, you and I wear the same size, and I’m taller than you, which tells me the projection of _your_ internalized issues onto _me_ , are, well, just that.”

Cheryl paused for a moment before smiling sweetly. “Ten laps, after practice. If you won’t help yourself, I will.”

“Two and a half miles?” Betty couldn’t help but sound incredulous, but the added exercise _was_ appealing, and good for the baby. “Fine, whatever.”

“Knock it off Cheryl. These diets are getting ridiculous, a girl’s gotta have her ice cream every once in awhile.” Veronica groused beside her, Lodge-hewn voice sharp. 

“Care to join your friend out on the track, V?” The lone Blossom challenged, gaze trained on the brunette a little too long, a little too hungry. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly what it was that Cheryl felt for Veronica, and honestly, Betty doubted the other girl even knew exactly herself, but underneath the never-ending power struggle, jealousy, and begrudging respect, the two girls had a connection that drove them toward one another, into something vaguely like friendship, vaguely like kinship, vaguely like courtship. It was a weird dynamic, that Betty, at least, wanted no part of. 

“A little extra conditioning never hurt anyone, and it certainly won’t hurt my legs in uniform come the pep rally on Friday.”

“I appreciate the team spirit, Lodge, since you’re so eager, run the full three miles.”

“Are you going to stay and watch? Make sure we don’t skimp out on you?”

“Do I need to?”

“I guess we’ll see.”

The redhead huffed out an aggravated breath before turning with a bright grin as she clapped her hands together. “Alright everyone, let’s wrap up these stretches and jump into the new routine. It’s a bit more complicated than we’re used to but I expect everyone to have it memorized, at the very least, by the end of practice. If you don’t have it memorized, it’s not the end of practice.” 

Betty turned to her friend with a mock-scowl, “Stop flirting.” She whispered, just to watch the pink hue rise in the brunette’s cheeks.

After the run, as the two girls stretched out, Veronica leaned over to grab her hand, squeezing it wordlessly before standing up. 

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“First trimester tummy turners?”

“No, just plain old nerves. I haven’t really had any trouble, almost didn’t believe I was pregnant, until i went to the doctor to find out for sure.”

“Really? No bloating, no cankles? No acne or mood swings or vomit?”

“I mean, my boobs hurt, and all I want to do is fuck, but that’s about it.”

“Damn, Juggie’s one lucky dad-to-be.” 

“Jughead has the libido of a brick.”

Veronica laughed. “He can’t be that bad.”

Betty sighed. “He’s not. It’s just, since I’ve been pregnant, it’s been harder. Before, it was fine, we ran our course depending on where he was - and don’t get me wrong, Jughead doesn’t have to get it up to get me off, but there will be whole weeks where even thinking about sex, or physical intimacy even, just makes his skin crawl. You know how sometimes he’ll wear like five layers of clothing in mid-August? He’s like, insulating himself against his own nakedness, or whatever. It doesn’t entirely make sense to me, but that’s just the way he is. How he’s wired. Honestly, it makes what we have even more special, knowing he wouldn’t want it, hasn’t wanted it, with anyone else, but holy shit do I want it with him, like all the time, and it feels like I’m asking something of him every time, unless he initiates, but I don’t want to have sex twice a week with two month dry spells, I want him to fuck me between _classes_ for Christ’s sake!”

“B, you know what you need?” Veronica asked, after a beat.

Betty sighed. “What?”

“A vibrator.”

For a moment, the girls walked in total silence, but then Betty started to laugh, and laugh, and laugh until tears streamed from her eyes. After a moment, Veronica joined her, and the two of them laughed until they cried, climbing in to sit side by side in Veronica’s car, letting out the tension of the day, plenty still left over after their two and a half hour workout.

Catching her breath, Betty sighed, rolling her neck and sitting up straight. “I’m ready.”

“You sure?”

“Oh, I’m so far from ready, but this is as good as it gets. Let’s go.”

“Alright.” Veronica started the car, pulling out of the empty parking lot. “I am getting you a vibrator, though.”

“Want to throw in about 200 batteries with that?”

“Anything for the mother of my godchild.”

“You mean your niece.”

“That works too.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

She was late, and he worried that she wasn’t going to show, but all he did was order another cup of coffee, telling himself he would climb in through her damn window if necessary. As it turned out, it wouldn’t be, because it wasn’t even ten minutes later that the blonde walked into Pop’s, her eyes brighter than they’d been in days. He smiled, despite himself, despite his worry, and stood to embrace her, unwilling to let her simply sit across from him, so distant, so untouchable. It was almost a relief just being in contact with her, feeling her against him, wrapped inside his arms. He could pretend she was safe this way, that it was all going to be okay, that nothing could touch them when they were wrapped around each other like this. He kissed her, pleased when she responded eagerly, hungrily, a callback to their departure from one another that morning. 

“Want anything?” He asked when they finally parted, returning to the booth he considered theirs. 

“Not yet, but I’ll need dinner, I guess.” 

“Me too.” 

A beat, a lull stretched too long. 

“How was practice?”

“Good. Honestly Cheryl and Veronica just need to sort it out-”

“You mean fuck it out?”

Betty laughed, a gratifying noise that never failed to make his heart swell, “That’s exactly what I mean. Those two are ridiculous, and whatever tension it is they have going on? Needs to be taken care of.” 

He smiled, softer than he meant to.

“You look better, Betty.”

“I feel better. What I-” The girl in front of him took a deep breath, teeth deep in her lip and Jughead reached out automatically for her hands, ready to hold her fingers away from her palms, to let her squeeze the suffocating tension she turned into blood into him instead. “What I should have told you a long time ago, I hadn’t told anyone. Until Veronica, today, and, you may be...” She hesitated again, searching for a word? Bracing herself? “Angry,” she worked through the syllables slowly, “that I told her before you, I want you to know that I’m sorry for a whole lot of other things too. Like putting you in this position in the first place.”

“Betty I think it will help me out a whole lot if you told me what you’re even talking about.” For a moment, the blonde said nothing, and he felt the panic began to rise. “Are you- are you moving?”

“No! At least, not for a while, if at all. That’s not, no.” She shook her head as if to clear it. Another beat. “Jughead, I love you, and I want you to know that what I’m about to say means we have decisions we’ll have to make together, but affords us each decisions we’ll make on our own. You have every bit of say in this as I do, for yourself.”

“Betty, you’re scaring me.”

When she spoke again, her voice was achingly soft, but as firm as her mother’s reprimand. “I’m pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what y'all think! Sending out all those ~good vibes~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm a day late! Totally forgot to upload, life is full right now :)  
> Some heavy conversations between bughead today!

In front of her, the boy she loved ceased to move. From what she could tell, he wasn’t even breathing. His eyes had glazed over with something like cataracts that she prayed was just shock. The sudden silence in front of her made everything that surrounded them loud and colorful by comparison, and she took a moment to wonder if it had been a good choice to do this in Pop’s, if this one moment would eclipse every other memory they had made in the tacky rubber booths with their sticky tables. The two of them together, with their friends, living the teenage lives they would have to say goodbye to from this moment on. 

“Jughead?” She ventured, her voice small and quiet when she could bear the suspense no longer. 

When no response came, she settled in to wait. She had made him wait, and now it was her turn. 

With impeccable timing, Pop approached their table, and the long ingrained Cooper training took hold easily as she beamed a welcome at the man who had been privy to the last eight years of her life. 

“Hey, kids, anything I can get you now that Betty’s here?”

“Two burgers would be great, Pop - we had a long practice today. I’m starving.”

Pop smiled back at her, despite the concerned look her gave the immobile boy across from her, “I bet you are, it’s getting late for dinner, Miss Cooper.” 

“Oh, trust me, you don’t have to tell _me_ that!” She laughed as Pop left to place their order. 

Still, Jughead gave no response.

“Baby?” She whispered, falling to the pet name she usually saved for the safety of solitude and darkness, no matter how innocent the circumstance.

A blink. Long and slow, eyelashes trailing a dark accentuation over his cheekbones, blue eyes dark with confusion and something heavy, frenetic. 

“We’re having a baby?” He managed, with a voice that sounded like it had been resurrected from the grave. 

She nodded. 

He looked at her, gesturing limply with the erratic protrusion and then slump of his arm, wrist and fingers slack. “You’re?”

She nodded again. 

“We’re?” The same motion, toward himself this time.

Another nod.

After a moment, she began to choose her words, carefully, letting them slip out slowly, each syllable checked and rechecked before the next began. “Ours, if you want. You didn’t sign up for this, and I don’t expect you to throw your life away for faulty birth control. You don’t have any responsibility,” She gestured just as helplessly, “to this, to me.” 

Jughead narrowed his eyes, looking at her as if she were alien, before coming alive as he leaned across the table in a sharp, striking movement. “I don’t have any responsibility?” His tone was as caustic as she had ever heard him, each word acrid and sharp and she flinched. “No birth control is 100% effect, Betty, I signed up for the same risks you did, so don’t tell me I’m not responsible for my own child. I don’t have any responsibility to you? Newsflash, Betts, but that’s what a commitment is, that’s what a _relationship_ is.” The silence entered between them again, and Jughead slumped when she made no move to respond, too stunned by his vehement declaration of allegiance to muster a reply. His voice was soft when he spoke again. “If you don’t want me in the picture, fine, but at least tell me who put you up to it - your mother? Your father? They don’t want any of that good ol’ Jones’ influence on the new family secret?”

Betty felt her eyes fill with tears and silently cursed her newfound sensitivity, missing the days where a nip to her palms had her steady as a rock. Immediately she cursed that impulse as well, what kind of example would she be setting for her child, hurting herself in order to function?

“Shit, Betty, don’t cry, I’m sorry. That was low, Betts. Betty, come on, please.” She slowly became aware of Jughead’s murmured pleas as he uncurled her fingers with his own, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart.”

“I want you to be the father.”

“Is there a possibility-” Jughead reared back as if struck.

“No, I want you to be the _father_ , not just the genetic donor, but I want you to be happy so much more than even that. Please, don’t make any promises you’ll resent me for later. Think about it. You have so many possibilities in your future now, this decision is an opportunity to severely limit them. I don’t want to fuck up your life.”

“Betty, look at me, if you’re raising my baby, so am I.”

“My mom wants me to put it up for adoption.”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know, Juggie.” Betty barely managed to whisper the words before her throat closed and the tears dripped down in earnest, No sobs accompanied them this time, but Jughead, so soft and steady in front of her, so endlessly, irrevocably full of love, broke her walls down like nothing else could. Her shoulders slumped, mountains of weight sliding off them as she finally opened the door to her closest ally and teammate. 

Softly, as if not to startle her, he slid into the booth next to her, pulling her into his chest and taking out her elastic to stroke gentle fingers through her hair. 

“When my mom was pregnant with Jellybean she used to cry if the wind blew the wrong way. One time she dropped the cap to the milk and sobbed for twenty minutes because she was convinced she’d drop the baby. I’d never seen my dad so… competent, emotionally supportive, _caring_ as he was while she was pregnant. Haven’t seen him like that since.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’ll take care of me while I’m pregnant and then I’m on my own?” Betty sniffled, drawing a laugh out of both of them.

“Oh yeah, I’m not changing a single diaper, Bettykins, I’m just here to get snot and mascara on my shirt.”

“As long as we’re clear.”

Pop chose that moment to return, a plate in each hand heavy with a massive burger and a mountain of fried. 

“Here you go kids, the perfect reward for a long day. Though you might have to let go of each other to enjoy it.” The older man teased, and they both laughed, unraveling from each other as Betty sniffed and wiped at her face with a napkin, Pop pretending not to notice as he refilled their waters and disappeared back into the kitchen. 

Jughead didn’t leave her side, just moved over a little and dug in, not even his impending fatherhood a distraction from his true love in life, food. Betty was surprised to find her own appetite unimpeded, and for a moment, the two of them ate, arms touching, in a perfectly comfortable silence. It wasn’t until they were grazing lazily on the fries that either of them spoke again. 

“How have you been feeling? Morning sickness?’

“Horny, mostly.”

Jughead mock gagged. “I hate that word.”

“Phonetically? Or what it entails.”

“Phonetically. I’ve been in a bit of a mood myself.”

Betty found herself grinning. “Thank god.”

“Really? That’s what you needed to hear?” Jughead was incredulous. “Not, ‘No way am I abandoning you, Betty!’ or, ‘I won’t let them send you to a creepy Nun summer camp where they steal your baby!’ You just wanted to know if I was feeling sex-repulsed.”

“What can I say, I’m a girl with priorities.”

“No one’s arguing with that.” 

It felt good to laugh with him, the distance that had seemed to stretch between them as the weight of her secret had grown and grown was gone as if it had never been, and the reassurance that she wasn’t going to be alone, with whatever they did, made her feel lighter than ever. When she mentioned that to Jughead he grinned. 

“Maybe you should mention that to Cheryl when she’s looking for a new diet.”

She batted at his arm in mock exasperation, but leaned against him just as quickly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and settling close. 

“But really,” He started, stealing from the last of her fries, “No morning sickness?”

She shook her head.

“Have you seen the doctor?”

She nodded.

“By yourself?” He sounded like he couldn’t decide which was worse, seeing the doctor alone, or not seeing a doctor at all.

“At first, but when my mom found out she made me go with her.”

She glanced up to see all the blood had drained from Jughead’s face. “Your mother knows?” He asked in a voice he would deny was a whimper.

“She found what was probably the 12th pregnancy stick. I’ve been checking every few days, as if it’ll suddenly change.”

“Holy shit. You had to go to a neonatal examination with _your_ _mother_?”

“It’s just as bad as it sounds.”

“I’m sorry, Betty. I wish you would have told me.”

“I was so scared.” She whispered, feeling her eyes filling up with tears for what had to be the 400th time that day. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Whatever I did, that made you think you had to choose between losing me, and handling this on your own, I want you to know I am so, so, sorry.”

“I don’t think it was you, Juggie. My family doesn’t have a very good history with supporting it’s pregnant women.”

“Betty Cooper,” He pulled away, turning to grab her shoulders, “I love you, and I am not leaving you, and whatever life we choose going forward, we choose together. We go forward together.”

“You’re a little too perfect, you know that Jughead?” She offered a watery smile as she lifted her face to his, their foreheads resting against each other.

“Trust me, Betty, there are plenty things in our lives that are far enough from perfect to allow us this one little thing.”

“I hope you’re right, because I’ll be so pissed if you just jinxed us.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

For some reason, despite all his imagination and doomsday predictive abilities, looming fatherhood had not been a possibility that had occurred to him. And, for some reason, that possibility did not scare him nearly as much as he knew it should. He trusted Betty, and he had a reasonable amount of confidence that the two of them together would build at least the semblance of competence. More than that, he believed, as much as he was capable of believing in good things, that as long as Betty and him were on the same team, they would be able to be happy. 

“What happened to your bike?” She asked, when she saw they were heading to the car.

“Shady needed to borrow it for Serpent stuff. He crashed his again.”

“So of course you loan him yours.”

“‘Serpent stuff” for Shady usually means trying to impress a girl. I figure my bike’s pretty safe. Plus, I’ve always got you for repairs.” He winked, celebrating internally when she smiled. 

True to her word, Betty was a woman with her priorities in line, and no sooner did they get in his dad’s clunker of a car, than she was directing him to take them to his trailer. FP would be at the bar, working or drinking, and Alice could hardly complain of Betty’s late-night _or_ night-long absence considering that the damage to be done had already _been_ done. He knew Betty was doing her best to restrain herself, legs crossed in the seat next to him, but she couldn’t help the occasional too-hot stare turned on him, green eyes almost black in the passing streetlights. She would lean over and murmur things too, her hands gripping the car door, intent on making it there in one piece. 

“It’s all the time, Juggie.” She whispered, straining towards him, away from him, “I want you all the time.”

“I thought that’s how ‘your kind’ always are.” He replied, keeping his voice light, even. 

“It’s so much worse.” She whined, ignoring the jab completely. Without further warning, she was squirming beside him, unzipping her skirt and sliding a desperate hand into her panties. 

“Fuck, Sweetheart.” He swore, fighting to keep his eyes on the road. 

“Talk to me Juggie.” She breathed, and he glanced to where her fingers were circling frantically. Groaning, he tore his gaze away. 

“Slow down, Betts, it’s not a race. I want to see you take care of yourself.”

“I said talk to me, not tell me what to do.” The blonde grumbled, but complied anyway.

“Can you do that for me, Baby? Can you take care of yourself? Because I don’t think you’ve been doing a very good job of that lately, huh?”

She shook her head.

“No, I know you haven’t. Fuck, Betty, why’d you have to start without me, I can’t even watch like this.”

“Consider this an exercise in empathy.” She gritted out, rolling with the movement now, head tipped back, hair still loose, now splayed across the upholstery.

“This is how you’ve been feeling, Baby? For a month and a half?”

Betty nodded, slowly, fighting her desire to pick up the pace. He reached over and stroked firm fingers over hers, heat building in him at the slick damp that coated them.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.”

Betty whined.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Jughead’s eyes were dark, like they always were when he touched her. He touched her, like he always did, as if it was simultaneously his favorite thing to do and the most important thing he’d ever done. His attention never wavered from her, intense, secure, coaxing the bright coils of anticipated relief into the foreground while she writhed for him. 

Occasionally he would talk. Things like, “You’re so beautiful, Betty.” and, “That’s it, Baby, just like that.” and, “Do you like that, Sweetheart?”, meaningless, perfect sighs spilling from his lips, driving her forward. Each part of him fit her perfectly, and she couldn’t get enough, demanding more and more, losing herself to the stars but each time bouncing back with undiminished energy, unfaltering desire, and Jughead, he didn’t miss a beat. 

“I’ve got you Betty.” he murmured, “I’ve got you, Baby.”

And by the time he finally unraveled, spent, tipping head first into exhaustion, he had done as promised. He had taken perfect care of her.

She slipped into sleep behind him, dreamless in the first hours of the night, sticky and sweaty but smiling, tangled in the arms of her favorite person, secure, for the briefest moments, and for the first time in a long time. 

“Are you going to tell Archie?” When they awoke only hours later, desperately thirsty and uncomfortably crusty, Jughead was still wrapped around her, their bodies curled together, their breath in tandem. 

“Honestly, I’ve spent so long _avoiding_ thinking about it, I haven’t really… thought about it.”

“I love how articulate you are after sex.”

“Look.” Betty didn’t have anything to follow the statement, but the word alone was sufficient, had _the father of her child_ muffling a giggle in her shoulder. 

“I want him to know, but I’ll wait for you if you’re not ready.” 

Betty thought for a moment of the relief that had come just from telling Veronica, and how invaluable her friend had already been after only a day. “Can I tell him? Or tell him with you?”

“Betty, I’m following your lead here.”

“We can tell him first thing tomorrow if you want, but what I want, or, what I hope at least, is that we can be in this together. I dont,” Betty took a deep breath, collecting herself as she pushed further into Jughead’s embrace, “I don’t want to lead anymore.”

“Okay.” She heard him whisper into the bare skin of her shoulder, “Okay.”

They rose to gulp down water that whined it’s way through the tap, slipping into the shower with bleary, early morning coordination, both eager to return to the warmth of the sheets they’d left behind. When they did, tumbling down in soft, old, oversized t-shirts and flannel boxers, they returned to their prefered state of indistinguishability, morphing into one knotted and many limbed being rather than two young kids, chasing safety in each other’s embrace.

They fell asleep like that, together, though sleep wasn’t the comfort it should have been after so long without it. Her dreams were full of stretch marks and excess skin, weight that stayed and grew like a cancer of ostracization, marking her clearly as unfit, unattractive, a failure in every regard. The night was long with funhouse mirrors, surrounding her as her body grew more and more repulsive, betraying her with breasts that stretched and sagged before her eyes, hair that swallowed her from the ankles up - a nightmare inspired by the light fuzz already growing over her stomach. A bloodshot gaze blinked back at her from the horror of the mirrors, and she woke with tears in her eyes. 

At least my contacts aren’t in danger of drying out, she thought wryly, trying to force the moisture away. 

“Betty?” The mumble was accompanied by a groan as her boyfriend rolled over, directly on top of her. She huffed out a breath. “You okay?

“You’re crushing me.”

“Oh, sorry.”

He twisted around, relieving her of his weight but keeping her close, burrowed deep into the covers of the tiny twin bed. 

“When… _after_ ,” She started, the small amount of mustered bravery not enough to hide the quaver in her voice, “will you ever- will you ever want me again?”

“What?” The word was half-formed, and Betty couldn’t tell if Jughead was even awake yet. Honestly, she prefered it if he wasn’t.

“My body is about to crank out a whole new human. You’re going to be able to tell.”

Jughead’s hand slid to her stomach, rubbing softly. It was the first time he’d made a gesture like that, so directly to the baby, and Betty braced herself against the discomfort it brought, to be touched where she carried only shame, put there from her mother and Cheryl and magazines. She tolerated it for him, and then, almost without her noticing, she tolerated it for the slightest glow that bloomed beneath the discomfort, beneath the shame, something warm and soft, and then out of mind. 

She kept going. “I’m going to have stretch marks, and skin just hanging off my body, and weight that sticks around, and the hormones will change where my hair grows and how much and I’ll have acne and bloating and I can _tear_ and never be the same again and you already-”

Behind her Jughead stiffened. She stared resolutely forward, but made no attempt to continue, no attempt to correct herself. 

For a long moment, there was silence, and then a deliberate, ragged inhale, “Betty, you are the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever met, and if you can shatter every conception I’ve ever had about perfect - no, let me finish - then I hardly think the issue is with you.”

“Juggie, if you think I’m so pretty now and _still_ don’t want me most of the time, what will you do when I’m not?”

“You could be the most disgusting, dilapidated leper on the planet and I’d still be head over fucking heels for you Betty. I’m sorry I’m not wired the way you are, that I can’t keep up with what you need and what you want all the time, I am, but I do love you, and nothing’s going to change that.”

All of a sudden Betty felt incredibly, impossibly terrible. This time the tears could not be contained within the limits of her eyelashes and they spilled freely over her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Jughead, that’s not what I meant.”

“Baby, what didn’t you mean?” He sounded genuinely confused.

“I didn’t mean there was anything wrong with you, there’s nothing wrong with you-”

Jughead shushed her, running fingers through her hair and wiping the tears from her face. “No, you meant there was something wrong with _you_ , and you know what? Neither of those things are true. We’re both doing just fine. If you want to have this baby, whether we keep it or not, you’re going to do just that, and I’m going to think all the more of you for your strength and beauty, just like I already do for being so incredibly, amazingly strong. Just like you’ve always been.”

“And if I don’t keep it?”

“Then I’ll admire your ability to make impossible decisions under immense pressure. You can’t lose Betty, not with me.”

“I could never get an abortion.”

The conversation to this point could be measured by the tension in the body behind her, and she noted with the same anxious concern that coated her every waking moment since she missed her pill-controlled period that it was especially tense in this moment.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s our _baby_ , Jughead.”

Jughead let out an audible breath behind her. “Betts, you know I’ll support you no matter what, even if you change your mind down the road, but I’m really glad we feel the same way about what I’m cognitively aware is a small conscious-less collection of cells.” 

She laughed softly, “Me too.”

“Team Jones and Cooper, partners in, uh, life.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. 

“Does that make us ‘Cones’?” She giggled, a little hysterically, but it was better than crying. 

“God, I hope not.” 

“The alternative is ‘Joopers’.”

“We’ve made a huge mistake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good vibes!
> 
> Can't wait to hear from y'all! I know we're mixing with some "hot button" issues


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes y'all. Someone messaged me to remind me that this fic exists and I realized I hadn't updated in two weeks. I'm in the middle of a show and midterms currently, but I'll try to be more consistent!

Betty hadn’t wanted to miss anymore class after missing a whole day already, and he hadn’t been too inclined to leave his bed when it was full of Betty Cooper, so telling Archie was put off until Pop’s, where Veronica was meeting them later for some “much needed and long-overdue moral support”, as she put it. 

The ride over, his motorcycle shiny and unblemished once more, had been good, with Betty’s arms wrapped around him and the wind wrapping around them both, but the morning itself had been good _for them_. He knew they needed to start thinking realistically about what could lie ahead, down the line, and start thinking about the decisions they had ahead of them. It had been heartbreaking to wake to the girl he loved in tears because she was sure he would never find her physically attractive if she had the baby. He’d figured it would have been a bad time to try and explain that he would _never_ be attracted to her and it was entirely irrelevant to one Ms. Betty Cooper, but he’d tried to say the right thing - in this case, whatever would make her believe his love really was unconditional. 

He took out his phone, the words, as usual, coming too late. He hoped they would be received as intended. 

**Jughead Jones:**

 **__**_Betty, I don’t need to want to fuck you to want to make you feel good. I like being with you, I_ want _to be with you, because I want every part of you, and I want to_ be _a part of anything good I can add to your life. I wish you didn’t feel responsible for my sexuality, because the way I feel about you is so much more than that._

The time it took for her to respond was agony, but after the waiting that had compromised yesterday, he could withstand it. Finally, 37 minutes later, a glow flashed in his pocket and he hurried to read it. 

**Betty Cooper:**

**__**_I like it when you make me feel good ;)_

Then, a beat later.

_I would give the world for a moment with you, Jughead Jones, and I don’t care how cheesy you thought that was because you’re stuck with me._

**Jughead Jones:**

**__**_Don’t worry Betty Cooper._

**__**_I’m a broken man._

_Who thought that was cute._

_I can never critique another film as long as I live._

**Betty Cooper**

**__**_Don’t worry. I won’t tell._

Lunch came and Jughead hurried to stack his free lunch high, focusing on the things he could bring home. As usual, Miss Beazly turned a blind eye to his blatant abuse of the ‘1 entree 1 drink 2 sides’ rule, waving him through with a wink. He grinned back at her, taking some strange pleasure in his ability to provide, made possible, of course, only by his father’s _inability_ to provide. His face fell a little, at that thought, but he shook it off, once again repeating what had become the age old mantra for him and Betty. _We are not our parents._ He thought about FP’s easy charm, and how comfortable the man stood in his own body, the ease with which he moved and spoke without thinking about hows or shoulds. There were many ways he was not like his father, a whole cache of veritable proof, yet the fears remained, creeping back in over and over like weeds, that they would find their similarities in the darkest parts of themselves.

Betty was already at the table, waiting for him, and he slid beside her with a smile, quirking an eyebrow at her sad looking salad. 

“Cheryl.” She shrugged, with a nod toward the redhead advancing toward them, holding a tray piled high with food. 

“Cheryl.” Jughead stared at her, “I think the table designated for Riverdale’s very own Queen B is that way.” He nodded toward the table she usually ate at, where the rest of the the River Vixens were watching them, non discreetly. “And by Queen B I mean-”

“Queen Bitch, yes. How original. And, might I add, incredibly feminist of you.”

“What can I say, Blossom, some girls are just born to break the rules.”

“And I break the ones that make you act like a decent person and women’s rights advocate. Enough banter, Jughead, I get the gist.” Cheryl paused for a moment to switch gears, turning a signature red smile on the girl beside him. “Betty, I see you’re taking my… advice, but I thought you might appreciate a refresher course in the Dos and Do Nots.” 

“You mean the Dos and Don’ts?” Jughead asked in an attempt to redirect the attention from Betty. 

“No Jughead,” Cheryl answered, not looking at him, “I mean the Dos, and the Do Nots.” 

Betty sighed, uncowed but uncomfortable. “What do you want, Cheryl?”

The other girl widened her eyes in mock surprise. “Why, to help, of course! I can’t have anyone thinking I don’t look after my River Vixens.”

“Or course not.” The blonde beside him muttered, and he grinned. 

“It’ll only take a moment, I promise.” The redhead simpered, tugging the tray in front of her. “Let’s start easy. Orange? Do. Donut? Do not.” Cheryl continued in this fashion, occasionally prompting Betty to answer for her. Betty complied, clearly having learned long ago it’s best to pick your fights with a Blossom.

Veronica slipped in beside Cheryl. “Ooh are we playing a game?” She asked, grabbing the donut from the pile and taking a bite out of it. 

“Veronica, I’m glad you’re here. I was just giving Betty a refresher course on the list of acceptable things to eat while she’s on my team. For example, uh, no.” Cheryl gave a pointed look toward Veronica’s burger and fries before take the donut gingerly and dropping it in front of Jughead. “Here, Free Lunch, a boon.”

“See Cheryl, this is what I mean by rule breaking. Usually I would never use a word I consider to be solely appropriate when used for feminist reclamation, but then I see you, and I remember it was a word invented to describe you.”

Cheryl turned to Veronica faux-confidentially, “He means ‘bitch’.” 

Veronica mimicked the same faux-confidential delivery, “I know.” 

Jughead ate the donut. 

Cheryl returned to sorting, Jughead returned to stealing whatever she sorted, and Veronica jumped in with generally combative comments, and by the time Archie arrived, Cheryl was sitting across from them with nothing but a smile. 

“Cheryl?”, Veronica basically purred her name.

“Yes, Ronnie?”

“Consider yourself uninvited from my party tonight. 

The other girl’s eyes narrowed, but the smile stayed. After a terrifying beat, she turned suddenly. “Archie, dear, lovely to see you.”

“Uh, yeah, Cheryl. You too.” Archie froze halfway through sitting down, looking between Cheryl and the rest of them helplessly.

“I always felt we missed out on something good. We should catch up sometime!” Cheryl turned and slid off the bench, throwing a beguiling look over her shoulder. She mostly looked evil, thought Jughead. The look was not for Archie, he thought a moment later, noticing the size of Veronica’s pupils.

“Er, right.” Archie finished sitting down as if he had just noticed himself hovering awkwardly over the bench before turning his helpless eyes toward Veronica, who shrugged and watched the other girl sashay away. 

After a moment, Veronica turned to Betty, “It sure was nice of Cheryl to bring over all this food. I think I’ll kill her.”

“You invited _Cheryl_ to your ‘little get together’?” Betty looked incredulously at her best friend, but honestly, Jughead couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised. Love was notoriously stupid.

“A brief slip in judgement. Betty, you’re absolutely stunning. Radiant, even. Dare I say… glowing?” Veronica brushed the matter away, a mischievous smile plucking at the corners of her lips.

Betty rolled her eyes, but blushed, and Jughead couldn’t help the kiss he pressed into her hair, squeezing her tighter. “She’s right you know.” He whispered. 

Archie, still confused but happy to be on navigable territory, jumped in. “You’re gorgeous, Betty. Want some of my pizza? Miss Beazly slipped me extra.” He didn’t wait for an answer, dropping a slice in her empty salad bowl, a meal Betty had finished about half-way through Cheryl’s impromptu demonstration.

Kevin appeared, somehow already mid story, and the group shook off the invasive bitchiness of Cheryl Blossom, sinking into the old easy rhythm of friendship. For a moment, Jughead forgot that everything was different now. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Archie was late to meet them at Pop’s. Betty had assumed this would be the case and had told Pop to hold their orders until he came in. Jughead was very unhappy that his next meal time depended on Archie being somewhat reliable. Betty had prepared for this too, and withdrew several snacks from her purse.

“I love you.”

“I know, Dear.” Betty replied absently in a voice so startlingly reminiscent of her mother’s she almost looked around the chocklit shop for the intimidating woman.

“You’re real scary.” Jughead looked at her with wide eyes and the traces of laughter in his twitching lips and she grinned. 

“Don’t you forget it.”

“Trust me, Cooper, I won’t.” He was still joking, but the constant twisting heat hadn’t been conquered for long and the promise in his voice was heavy. She cocked an eyebrow at him but he just shrugged and took a bite out of the granola bar. 

Right on time, by which she meant, 20 minutes late, Archie strolled in, “Hey guys, am I late?”

“Don’t worry about it, Andrews.” Betty grinned. 

“Where’s Ronnie?”

“Coming later.” Juggie grunted, showing zero discretion as he craned his neck to look over Archie’s shoulder for Pop. Betty glanced over to see the man flashing a cheery thumbs up and heading back into the kitchen.

“I ordered for you Arch, hope that’s okay.”

“Of course, Betty.” He smiled at her, giving her a look that once made her melt, but now brought only a soft glow of warmth. She smiled back reflexively, unable to keep from mirroring her best friend’s affection. “You can’t keep Jughead waiting.” Archie winked, nodding to the empty bag of trail mix and granola bar wrappers. 

“I’ve heard he turns into a real monster.” She whispered seriously. 

“More like a demon.” Jughead agreed beside her, leaning in conspiratorially. 

Betty struggled for a natural way to begin the looming conversation and settled instead for the mundane. “Arch, do you know why Reggie was acting so weird this morning?” The footballer hadn’t been his usual smart-alec self in homeroom that day, not even meeting her eye when she told him good morning. “He didn’t even make a dumb joke when Mr. Adams used the Shakespeare quote ‘Pistol’s cock is up/And flashing fire will follow.’ in his speech on ‘Always Being Prepared’” 

“He really said that?” Jughead raised his eyebrows.

“I really don’t think he gave it enough thought. In his defense, it almost worked really well. It just… didn’t.”

“Why would I know why Reggie was acting weird?” Archie’s voice had gone from round and sweet to blockish and sharp. He began to aggressively misuse air quotes. “How do I know _you_ aren’t acting weird? Honestly, these accusations are wildly-”

“So you do know what’s up with Reggie.” Betty grinned.

Archie looked like he was going to object for a moment longer before his shoulders slumped. “It’s nothing for your paper, Betts.” 

“Y’all fucking again?” Juggie asked casually, looking around for Pop, as he was prone to do every few seconds after they ordered. 

Archie sputtered.

“What about Veronica?” Betty’s brow crinkled.

“We’re not fucking.” Archie sighed. “We’re not anything. That’s why he was being weird. He tried to pull me into a broom closet after practice, called it a ‘high school bucketlist necessity’. I told him I was trying to, that I wanted, well that I’m with Veronica now. Sort of. I thought he’d get mad but he just looked confused. He didn’t stop looking confused.” Archie sounded broken up about it, and Betty reached out for his hand, rubbing her thumb over his index finger softly. He looked up with a grateful, sad smile. 

“How’s it going with, Ronnie, Archie?” She asked, knowing exactly how it was going. 

“Okay, I think.” His brow furrowed. “I don’t know. I really want to be with her, Betty.”

“Just be patient with her, she’s not a settling type.” She murmured, not knowing what else to tell him. Beside her Jughead huffed and she elbowed him firmly, fighting her own grin even though it really wasn’t funny at all. 

“Could she be?” Archie’s eyes were wide and wounded and Betty winced, unsure how to respond. 

Jughead rescued her. “When she’s ready to be. You can’t force anything, Bud.” 

“Juggie’s right. Some things just don’t work out.”

Archie looked like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Betty hurried to soften the blow. “But who knows? That’s my point I guess, you can’t be certain of anything, so don’t decide anything yet.”

“Decide… anything?” 

“Oh, I’m making a mess of everything, sorry Archie.”

“Betty has some things on her mind.” Jughead said it like an apology, and for a moment her temper flared - apologizing _for_ her? But then she realized he was apologizing _to_ her, for making it sound like the subject coming was solely her own, like he didn’t have things - the same things - on his mind, like he was so distant he could condescend.

“Oh, yeah, Betty. Jughead mentioned there was something going on a few days ago - are you okay?” Archie could always be relied on to miss the subtext, and his concern was refreshingly simple and wholehearted.

“I am!” Her answer was too bright and she took a breath instead of saying what she meant to next. “I am, I’m fine.”

Archie cocked his head.

“Archie, ol’ pal, Betty’s been wanting to tell you something for a while, and, I, you’re my best friend, man.”

They continued this way, picking up the next sentence when the other faltered, trudging through the conversation with unwarranted trepidation and distant hope. “You’re my best friend, too Archie. And so, I wanted, y’know, the core four to be the first to…”

“To know. We have something to tell you Archie, and we want you to just, take a second, after we tell you, and don’t say anything. Just for a minute.” 

“What’s going on? Are you guys okay?”

None of the teenagers at the table noticed the boy who had entered the bathroom behind them only moments before, and none of them noticed when the door opened, just a crack. If they had, maybe things would have turned out a little different for her and the people she loved, but, as it was, none of them had even registered movement outside the bubble the booth provided, Juggie’s longing glances toward the kitchen having slowed and ceased as the conversation turned more and more serious. 

“Archie,” She smiled, and then stopped smiling, unsure whether or not this was going to be something to smile about yet. “I’m pregnant.”

In retrospect, asking Archie not to say anything was completely unnecessary, the shock that dropped over the redhead’s face sufficient to keep him in silence long enough for Pop to bring over their food, dropping down four dishes just as the bathroom door, taking advantage of the momentary distraction, opened fully, allowing its singular inhabitant to slip away unnoticed. When Veronica arrived minutes later, Archie still had yet to speak.

“You can talk now, Arch.” Jughead managed through a mouthful of fries. 

“How long ago did you tell him?” Veronica asked, digging into her own food. 

“You knew?” Archie choked out. 

“Only since yesterday.”

“How long? And, uh, how?”

“How did I get pregnant?” Betty quirked an eyebrow.

“No! Well, yeah. I thought you were on the pill.”

“How do you know Betty’s on the pill?” Veronica looked amused.

“She had really unpredictable and debilitating periods, I used to have to bring her school work home with me because she would miss days at a time.” Archie answered reflexively, like he wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying at all. 

“No birth control is 100% effective.” Jughead shrugged, like that’s all there was to it. Betty supposed that that _was_ all there was to it. 

Archie turned panicked eyes on Veronica. “Relax.” The brunette waved him down, but he didn’t seem completely assured. 

“Doesn’t that have side effects? Taking the pill while pregnant?”

“There’s nothing I can do about that now.” Betty found her tone matching Jughead’s earlier matter-of-fact delivery and understood, suddenly, where it had come from. 

Archie nodded, looking lost. 

“Cooper!” The shout was unexpected, and she raised her eyes to meet Chuck’s without processing. The boy, who had the self-gratified expression of one who had just taken a huge dump, sauntered over, smirking. “Is it just me, or are you glowing?”

“I would say she’s looking especially radiant, Clayton, What do you think, Moose?” Reggie cracked a grin.

“Uh, she looks pretty normal to me.”

Both boys turned to glare at Moose, who looked confused. 

“Chuck.” Betty said, an acknowledgement, a warning, and also the only thing she had to say.

“The Cooper sluts are at it again. You lasted a while, Betty, I’ll give you that. Almost until graduation! So where are they sending you off to? The clinic, or the clink?”

“Why would she go to jail?” Archie asked, just before Moose could do the same.

“Her parents aren’t a big fan of a tarnished reputation, right? I’m sure the nuns would be happy to plug back into such a _reliable_ source of income.”

“What do you want, Chuck?” Jughead asked, a warning edge in his tone, one that Betty heard as restraint, and knew exactly what it was he was restraining himself from. 

“Want? How could I want anything else but to see the bitch get what’s coming to her?”

Veronica stood up, coming very, very close to the ex-footballer. “Well then, Chuck, I’m sure you can understand just how much we can relate here. In fact, I happen to know quite a long list of people who would be happy to see one or two horrible things heading your way, several of them sitting right behind me. I do consider myself a nice person, however, turned over a new leaf a while back, if you remember? So I’ll give you a word of advice. Back off. Leave. Now. Before someone decides to hurry one or two of those horrible things along. I have the feeling that that someone could be me, and we’ve had enough murdered high schoolers in this town already. I’d hate to steal Cheryl’s spotlight any more than I already do, you understand.”

Chuck did his best to look uncowed, but when he glanced beside him to see both Reggie and Moose had mysteriously disappeared, it wasn’t long before he made his own departure, doing his best to channel a scorned cat who really had chosen to leave with little to no input from anyone else.. 

“I’ll see you Monday, Cooper. And so will everyone else at Riverdale High.” He tossed a wink over his shoulder and left the building.

Betty, of course, was crying again, panicked angry tears streaking her face, her arms shaking with the force of clenching her fists. Beside her, for once, Jughead had no pretty words or easy kisses, and it was Archie who took her hands, and smoothed them flat, pressing napkins into her palms where she had drawn blood for the first time in over a year. 

“How far along are you, Betty?” He asked, gently, coaxing her gaze to his. 

“Six- seven weeks now.”

“To think - I’ll be godfather to a genius.” He grinned, and she smiled back despite herself, sniffling. 

“Between you and that one over there?” Veronica nodded to the boy beside her, finally dropping her hackles and returning to sit at the table, “We’re not going to know what to do with the kid.”

Betty sighed. “Yeah, I’m not sure what to do either.” 

“That’s okay, Betty.” Archie said earnestly, “You have time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me. Can't wait to hear what y'all think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here. Take it.

Jughead was immobile with rage. Every cell in his body was vibrating with an energy both unfamiliar and overwhelming. If he moved, he would regret it. Hazily, he was aware of his friends comforting one another, caring for Betty, talking about the future, but only as one is aware of the world beyond a bedroom window - distant, irrelevant, uninteresting. Every bit of Jughead’s control was centered on holding still, not exploding. 

The feeling terrified him. He had never been one for anger, and FP, with all his vices, could count anger, but not _rage_ among them. He recognized it though, the violence it created, the destruction it caused, and all he wanted was for the feeling, the overwhelming sense of power incarnate, to disappear, and never come back. He could never be a father if he had this in him. He couldn’t be with Betty if this was any part of him. He couldn’t even-

“I’m going to kill him.” It took Jughead a second to realize the voice was his own. It took his friends a moment to realize that too. 

“I already made a death threat, Juggie, come up with your own thing.” Veronica jumped in, a beat too late for casual.

“He threatened her! He demeaned her, degraded her, insulted her, and _he threatened her_.”

“And I’m sure he’ll follow through on that threat.” Betty’s voice shocked him into remembering she was still there, still beside him, still vulnerable to his destruction, and he scooted away, ignoring the hurt on her face as he pushed distance between him. 

_I’ve never felt like this._ He wanted to tell her. _I’ve never felt like I could hurt anyone and enjoy it like this._ The anger thrummed in him, beating like a second heart. _I can’t hurt you. Please don’t let me hurt you._

“But I am not now, nor have I ever been, scared of Chuck Clayton. His opinion is meaningless. His threats are worthless. The people who matter to me are not the people who care what Chuck says or does.” She continued.

“I’m going to _kill_ him.” This time Jughead didn’t even notice he had said the words out loud. He didn’t notice the look that passed between his best friend and not-quite-girlfriend. He barely noticed the hand on his shoulder, firm and soft. He turned, reflexively, toward it, before shrugging it off, avoiding the eyes of the blonde beside him.

“Jughead.” Her tone held no room for argument, and she hadn’t even said anything yet. “Look at me.” He did, slowly, against his better judgement, knowing he would be defenseless before her eyes. “Talk to me, what’s going on right now?”

_I can’t control myself. I’ve seen this before. Please don’t let me hurt you._

He shrugged. 

“Baby, please.” She was so sweet, pleading with him, reaching for him, carrying his child. 

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Do you think you’re going to hurt me?”

_She knew. She always knows_. 

“You would never.” She was so sure. How could she be so sure?

She reached for him again, and he flinched, but this time he didn’t pull away. 

“You’re panicking, Juggie. Breathe, okay?” He became uncomfortably aware of the couple across the table, hovering uncertainly. 

Archie seemed to notice the shift in his attention, leaning forward. “Remember when Betty first started having anxiety attacks? And the panic attacks? Remember how we learned to bring her down? Now you’ve got to do the same thing for you.” 

Veronica said nothing. “Wanna try to breathe with me?” Betty asked. He nodded, and Archie reached, gripped his hand, held him down. In the back of his mind, some part of him was aware enough to be humiliated.

Archie counted slowly, rhythmically, and beside him Betty breathed exaggeratedly beside him. He copied her, focused on the thrum of his best friend’s voice, and slowly, Jughead came back to himself. “Betty?” He croaked, when he could manage, and she nodded, taking his hand and leading him outside. The sun was setting, and the air had cooled.

“I’m sorry.” For a moment that’s all he could say. “I feel ridiculous.”

“I always do too.” She looked him straight in the eye. “When you come out of it and realize what happened on the outside. Remember when you and Archie had to come over and pick out my outfits? It was always so humiliating to be a fifteen year old who couldn’t even dress herself. But the two of you never even batted an eye, coming up with ridiculous combinations until I laughed, laying out everything from Monday through Sunday. Before you started doing that I would just lay naked on the floor. Sometimes crying, sometimes even screaming. About nothing. Something I objectively recognized as nothing. My mom told me if I was going to act like a child she was going to treat me like one. She’d leave me there, to ‘finish my tantrums’. Of course you feel ridiculous, you’re thinking about what happened on the outside. Remember you were reacting to what happened on the inside. There’s nothing ridiculous about that.”

Jughead took a shuddering breath. “You’re so smart, Betty.”

“So are you, Juggie. Arch and V were right, our kid’s going to be a genius.”

“With some solid mental health issues.”

“Then whatever we decide, can we make sure they’ll be somewhere they’ll get the support they need?”

“Yeah. That should be a requirement.”

“Okay.” Betty smiled, and Jughead knew why. He felt it too. The slight lift in his heart at the concrete decision. 

For a moment they stood in silence, and Jughead realized they were holding each other, his chin resting on the top of her head, and he breathed in the cool of the evening air with something almost like contentment, excepting for the impending Monday, the current pregnancy, and his opening foray into adulthood. 

“You want to talk about it?” Betty asked, like she wanted him to say yes. No one had asked him that question like they wanted to hear a real answer before. 

“I was so angry.” He whispered, almost too ashamed to say it. “I was so angry I couldn’t move. And then I was so scared, because I was so angry, and it _scared_ me.” Everything he said sounded more like a eight year old than a eighteen year old, but he didn’t know how else to say it. 

“We’re not out parents, Jughead.”

“Betty, I was _so_ angry.”

“I know, and you didn’t do _anything_. That’s proof enough for me.” She had pulled away just enough to turn to face him. “I know _you_ , Jughead. I’m sorry you had to do what you just did, and I’m sorry you had to do it in public. But I’m proud of you. And I love you. And we’ll handle this together. I promise.”

“What is ‘this’ exactly?” He laughed unsteadily.

“Monday. The baby. Our respective mental and emotional health.” 

“Together?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound too insecure.

“Together.” Betty grinned, and he couldn’t help but kiss her. The taste of her smile was the perfect antidote to what had proven to be a stressful 48 hours and what promised to be a very stressful seven months. 

“I love you, Betty Cooper.”

“I love you, Jughead Jones.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Who’s ready to party?” Veronica grinned, letting them into her apartment with a flourish. “Betty, could you help me in the kitchen?”

Betty rolled her eyes but acquiesced with a smile. 

“Some sparkling apple cider?”

“Sure, thanks. What’s up?” Her usually shrewd friend was putting little effort into the act, so Betty cut to the chase.

“How’s Jughead?”

“Shaken, but okay. He can be a pretty anxious person but he doesn’t usually have to deal with, you know, anxiety.”

“Is that what that was?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, that’s usually my thing, but I guess we share everything now, right?” Betty laughed, but Veronica still looked concerned.

“I don’t know, Betty. His eyes… he looked pretty scary.” 

“V, he only had the anxiety attack because he got so angry. It’s not my story, but there’s a reason anger scares him, and in my opinion, it’s entirely justified. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“As long as the two of you are okay.”

Betty laughed in earnest now. “Is anything okay? Is it anything going to be okay again?”

Veronica cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

When the girls returned Kevin had arrived and all three boys were holding a crystal tumbler several fingers full of top shelf whiskey. Betty widened her eyes meaningfully at Jughead but he just shrugged and looked away. She looked at Veronica who seemed to be mirroring her own feelings, minus the surprise.

“He’s a big boy, he can make his own decisions.” Betty muttered, more to herself than the brunette beside her. Veronica gave her her own meaningful look, which Betty also opted to ignore. 

“Starting without me?” Veronica chided sociably, pouring herself a glass of rosé. 

“Don’t worry, V,” Archie grinned as the girl slotted herself into his side with ease, “You don’t have too much catching up to do.” 

Veronica laughed, “I better not, I was only gone a second.”

The night progressed more or less smoothly. The boys got silly, but in a way she almost needed. Veronica brought out games aimed at a demographic much younger than they were, but watching Archie get whipped cream slapped into his face made her laugh harder than anything had in a long time. Not a single on one of them could manage Operation. It was good. 

And then Cheryl showed up. 

“I thought I’d made myself clear. You’re not invited.”

“Oh Ronnie, I’m _always_ invited.” 

Betty caught her friend’s eye, shook her head. Some things weren’t worth it. Cheryl seemed to clock the move, her red lips curving into a malicious grin. 

“Hey bottom feeders, I brought fireball.”

“That’s funny, I’d always thought of you as a top shelf kind of girl.” Jughead’s tone made it clear that wasn’t a compliment. 

“Don’t worry, Juggie, I know how to party.” Cheryl slid in between the arm of the couch and Betty’s boyfriend, proffering the handle like a peace offering. “Shots?”

If Betty had been watching, she would have seen Veronica’s eyes narrow. She would have noticed what Veronica noticed - that Cheryl was enacting a calculated form of revenge. 

It didn’t take much. Less than an hour later, Jughead was gone. For every sip Cheryl passed off as a shot, Jughead swilled a swig. The relaxed night had ratcheted up several degrees into chaos - the element of a particularly devious redhead. 

“Ten bucks says you can’t finish this handle in one chug.”

“Cheryl, it’s adorable you think I have ten dollars.”

“Well, I know you don’t accept charity, but I’ve heard you have quite a penchant for dares.” 

“Cheryl that’s enough.” It was Veronica who stepped in - as much as she could from her place on the couch, wrapped around Archie. His arms were tangled around her waist, palms wide against the curves of her body, a sleepy smile on his face, barely visible from where he was burrowed in her hair. 

Cheryl watched as Veronica slid a seemingly absent hand up and down Archie’s leg. “Oh, no, Ronnie - I don’t think it is.” 

Betty watched the air between the two girls crackle. The closer Veronica got to Archie, the more vindictive Cheryl became. 

“Cheryl, you’re crossing a line.” Her voice sounded strange to her own ears, quiet and kicked. 

“Sorry, Betts.” For a moment, the other girl seemed almost sympathetic, but the moment passed, and the red-lipped smile returned. “What’ll it be, Duncecap?”

“Make it 20 and you have a deal, O’ Spawn of Satan.” 

“Please, you’ll make me blush.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Everything was _awesome_. The air was warm and soft around him, his friends were great, fireball was great, even Cheryl was great. And he had 20 bucks in his pocket. That was some serious gas money. 

He had a girlfriend too, somewhere. God, she was the greatest. She didn’t seem too happy though. He should fix that. 

He got up, laughing when the floor lurched beneath him. She would be in the kitchen, hiding her face until she could get the right expression arranged on it. He barged in the kitchen door, took a moment to congratulate himself for knowing exactly where Betty would be. 

“Whoa, where’d you get the cookies?” 

Classic Betty. Baking cookies at a party at someone else’s house. 

“There was cookie dough in the freezer. I thought we could use some snacks.”

“Snacks sound awesome, Baby. You’re awesome.” 

“Thanks, Jug.” 

“Hey, Betts, is something wrong?” 

“Don’t worry about it Juggie.”

“Can I do anything?” He looked at her as if from far away, squinting determinedly to make out the detail of her face - and expression.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

He swallowed. It tasted like synthetic cinnamon. “That doesn’t sound good.”

She didn’t answer. “Could you help me put these on a tray?”

“Sure thing, Babygirl.” He liked helping Betty. “Ow, hot.” He dropped the cookie he was holding. Betty just rolled her eyes. “I was talking about you. You’re beautiful.” 

“Nice recovery.”

“Nothing to recover from, Betts. Can’t a guy tell his girlfriend he loves her?”

“I’m going to take these out to the others.”

He heard her say it, but he didn’t see her leave. The ground looked inviting, and then he was sitting on it. His stomach swooped sickly and he figured it was better to give it a minute, let his liver do its thing for a second. 

Next thing he knew Cheryl was storming in, black tracks streaking down her cheeks. She screamed, a gutteral, diaphram-flexing snarl and kicked the fridge. Jughead felt something stir in his chest, recognized it vaguely as empathy. She always tried so hard and yet-

“Hey, hey” He mumbled, climbing unsteadily to his feet. “Take a breath, yeah?” He didn’t know what he expected. The blows to his chest, maybe, solid thuds from her desperate punches. But not the tear tracks smudging onto the material of his shirt or Cheryl’s arms wrapped around his waist, his hands sliding up and down her back in a sort of surprised automatic pilot. 

Touch wasn’t a language Jughead spoke. It was more like a secret code he used to send hidden messages to Betty Cooper. But for the moment, everything was warm and soft, and Cheryl’s body on his wasn’t repulsive or even uncomfortable. It just was. So he held her, and rubbed her back, and stroked her hair, and wondered dimly what it was that had led them to this. 

The moment wasn’t a lingering one, over mere beats after it had begun, but it happened, the ever-breakable Cheryl showing her cracks once again. 

“It doesn’t have to be a game.” He murmured, almost a whisper. She wasn’t looking at him, but he knew she heard him. After a second, she nodded. 

Betty chose that moment to enter, the doorway behind her revealing Veronica and Archie making out languidly on the couch. Cheryl flinched, and Jughead did his best to give the blonde a meaningful look. She seemed to get the idea, pasting on a cheerful smile as she filled up glasses of water for everybody. 

“Hey Juggie, I was wondering what had happened to you! Could you help me bring some water out to the gang? They’re a little drunk.” She giggled, but he could tell she didn’t think it was funny.

“Actually Betts, I’m kind of-”

“Jug.”

“Oh, Betty, I was just about to head home if you want me to take them on my way out. Though, it might be a good idea If you grabbed a glass first, Jones.” Cheryl hadn’t recovered enough for her usual snark, but her sincerity betrayed a kind of apology. Looking between the two girls, Jughead reached clumsily for a glass, realizing as he drank how thirsty he was. In doing so, he missed the glare that slipped through Betty’s well-practiced facade, but it pierced through Cheryl. 

“Thanks, Cheryl.” His girlfriend managed to the redhead’s retreating back, before turning to him. “Can you walk?”

Jughead laughed before he realized it wasn’t a joke. “I’ve only been practicing for the last fifteen years.” She looked like she was going to say something else, but the words escaped his mouth before he could catch them. “Do you think it’s time someone told Archie?”

Betty just shook her head. “Some mistakes you have to learn on your own.” She stopped for a moment, obviously chewing something over, before sighing. “Ready to go back in, kiddo?”

He grinned. “I’m always ready, Baby.”

He doesn’t remember whose idea it was to play truth or drink, but it finds them in a melted circle, half sprawled each on top of the other. He thinks Archie may have been crying a few minutes ago, but now he’s laughing uproariously at something Kevin had said, and Veronica was giggling maddly beside them both. He turned to ask Betty if she had heard what they were laughing about, but she was gone. 

Somehow, he manages to find his way outside, where she’s sitting, arms wrapped around her knees on the steps leading up to Veronica’s apartment. When she sees him, she gets up and strides off in the opposite direction, muttering something about “taking a walk”. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive. I hope you're still alive.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fly back to school in the morning, so one last holiday treat before I go!

“Betty, Betty, whoa. What’s the problem, Baby?”

It took everything she had not to hit him. Anger was the only thing she had keeping her from melting into a pool of tearful cortisol, but it wasn’t exactly the best guide to action. “We’re going home, Jughead.”

He looked at her for a moment, confused, before his face slid into a sloppy smile. “Did you just call my trailer ‘home’?”

“Did you just call your dad’s trailer yours?”

That stumped him for a moment, then he grinned. “Touché. Hey, do you think Ronnie would mind if I grabbed one of those 3,000 bottles of booze? Help her get back at her dad and all?” 

“And what would you need that for?” 

“For this, Baby!” He threw his arms wide. “For this.” 

“Maybe you should ask Cheryl, considering how eager she was to be your supplier.” 

“Good idea, Betts.” He leaned over to press a kiss to her cheek but she out maneuvered him, steering him forward.

“Focus on walking, okay Jones?”

“Another good idea, my love, walking does indeed demand significant levels of focus at the moment.” 

Betty congratulated herself on confining her reaction to little more than the slight pursing of her lips. She knew, on one level, it was unfair of her to condemn her boyfriend for getting drunk at a party, that he was allowed to make his own decisions, that he was responsible, that he could do something dumb just to enjoy being dumb, that she had dumped a lot on him at once… but she couldn’t help the feeling of betrayal that welled up in her, the fury and the fear and the hurt that he would do this, to her, and to himself. Logically, she knew he did nothing wrong, but logic didn’t seem to be enough. 

“Watching FP all these years wasn’t enough, Jughead?” She murmured, speaking despite herself as her restraint crumbled before snapping with finality. 

Immediately he went stiff in her hold, lurching away to pilot his uncooperating limbs on his own. He didn’t look at her as he replied, and she wasn’t sure if it was because he was angry, or because he couldn’t lose his focus on the ground in front of him. “So my dad took away this too, huh? I can’t even just be a teenager because his existence means I’m a troublemaker or a player or a drunk.”

“He’s accountable for his actions, you’re accountable for yours.”

“No, I’m accountable for both.” 

“Jughead, you know this slope is slippery for you, more so than for others, because your genetics make it that way. Yet, you’re... testing the waters, anyway.”

“And what if I am?”

“Then I’m involved. And I didn’t ask for that.”

She didn’t know why she was having this conversation with him now, when he was still weaving, still tripping carefully over consonants as he spoke, still thinking through the currents of a sharp-tasting river. It was pointless, a cruelty to them both, and the smarter thing to do would have been to wait, to work out how she felt, what needed to be said and what didn’t, to have a plan of action before barging in. She’d done none of those things, and now she was refusing to even stop. Jughead had though. He hadn’t just stopped responding, he’s stopped walking too. She waited for him.

“Go on then.” He gestured loosely. “If I’m affecting you so much, go on. I can take care of myself.”

“Jughead,” She started, then sighed. “I’m sorry, let’s not fight.” She held her hand out for him. He eyed it wearily. “Please.”

“You're going to want to talk in the morning aren’t you?” He sounded resigned.

“Leave that for the morning. Come on, Juggie, let me walk you home.” 

He waited a beat longer, as if to make her squirm, but ceded, reluctantly, to her plea.

She wrapped his arm around her shoulder, her own circling his waist, as they made their way down the road together. She turned her head, pressing her face into his hair, his abandoned beanie safely in her coat pocket. The familiar smell of his shampoo seeped into her lungs, and she smiled, pressing a kiss to the side of his head for setting her eyes forward. That was the important thing, moving forward. 

“I love you, Baby.” He mumbled, his earlier vigor dissipating, speech slurring in his inattention.

“I love you too, Juggie.” She whispered, unsure why the promise made her eyes prick with tears. Fuck being pregnant, she thought, cursing, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, the pills that had failed her. 

FP was there when they returned, a fact that surprised her, but only for as long as it took for her to remember that today everything ran backwards; Veronica doted on Archie, Perfect Betty Cooper was pregnant (though that would be everyday, for a while), Jughead drank, and FP was sober on a Friday night.

The man took one look at his son draped over her before turning his heartbroken gaze to meet her own. The look was like a punch to the gut, and she swallowed hard against the sob building in her throat. 

“Fuck.” was all he said, as he rescued her from Jughead’s weight. She nodded with a sniff.

“Coffee?” He asked over his shoulder, and Betty nodded again before realizing he couldn't see her.

“It’s a little late for coffee, but I’d take some water.” She kept her voice pleasant and hoped FP had been sincere in his offer for her to stay, and to talk. Or maybe it hadn’t been an invitation, but rather an instruction, after all - his honor-list, not-a-thing-like-him son had come home drunk. He could want an explanation. It was hard to tell with FP, whose singular consistency was his terrible parenting coupled with unfailing love for his only son. 

The man strode past her to the kitchen, nodding for her to sit as he filled a glass with water and slid it across from her. 

“Betty, you know we love you to bits around here, but I can’t have you bringing my kid home smashed on the weekends.” He shot her a wink, even as the two of them watched his gentle attempt at humor faceplant. 

“I’m pregnant.” It was barely a whisper, the words getting no easier with time or repetition. 

FP stared at her blankly before heaving out a sigh. “You can take the girl out of Southside but you can't take Southside out of the girl.” 

“What?” Betty blinked at him.

“Only that we’ve got a penchant for pregnancies on this side of town. No insult intended, son.” 

She mulled over the fact her boyfriend’s father had just called her ‘son’. After a moment, she decided she was fine with it.

“It shouldn’t have happened.” She started, ready to explain.

“What, Betty Cooper act rashly? Betty Cooper unprepared? I don’t doubt you did everything right-“ FP cut off with a wince. Despite herself, she laughed. “Forget I said that.”

“I’ll do my best.” She assured, smothering a giggle as she fought to give the conversation its proper gravity.

“And Jughead, he knows?” A flash of warning sparked in the older man’s eye, and she nodded instantly. “But recently. He found out recently.” She nodded again. “How long?”

“Yesterday.”

“And how long have you known?”

“About five weeks. I- I suspected earlier though.”

FP breathed out a sigh before standing to pull a beer out of the fridge. He looked at her, as if to gauge her reaction, something like pride flickering through the eyes so familiar to her, the eyes that belonged to a boy she loved. He popped the cap off and sat back down, lazily, deliberately.

“My boy, he doesn’t drink, does he.”

Betty leveled a look at him. FP nodded, then shook his head, the pride back, though he didn’t seem to get it, who his son was. He loved Jughead, though, he’d never given Betty a reason to doubt that, even if it wasn’t enough. FP wasn’t a good father, but he had never turned his back on his son, and she knew he wouldn’t now.

“The two of you, have you decided, what you’re, what the, if you’ll – are you keeping the damn thing?”

“I don’t know.” Betty’s gaze dropped to where her hands twisted in her lap. “We might give it up for adoption, we might… we might be in it for the long run.”

FP grunted, taking a swig of his beer.

“Did-“ She started, taking a deep breath. “Did Gladys” FP flinched at her name, and for a moment Betty flashed to Jughead having this same conversation with _their_ child’s partner, flinching at the mere mention of her name, and her chest bloomed with a deep twisting ache. She pressed onward. “Did she try to stop you?”

She nearly quailed in front of the look he gave her, it was so reminiscent of Jughead at the diner, but she kept her gaze steady.

“You planning your getaway, Cooper?”

“Did she?”

FP stared at her a moment longer before huffing out his breath with a shake of his head, using the excuse of his drink to look away from her. “Yeah, she tried.”

Betty swallowed.

“Girl, the boy just found out something you’ve had weeks to get used to carrying” he paused. “Literally. Maybe he reacted badly. Maybe he didn’t think he could handle it. Maybe just wanted a second where he could breathe again. Just a second. Don’t condemn him just yet.” A long moment stretched between them. “Do you love him?”

Betty opened her mouth to answer but the man waved her off before she could make a sound. “I know you love him, girl, but you’re a smart kid, you might not see it all yet, but you’ve got a good idea what comes next. So think about it. Do you love him?”

This time Betty leaned forward, looking the man straight in the eye. He leaned in too. “Mr. Jones. You’re right. I have a good idea what we’ve got ahead of us, but I certainly can’t see everything, and I don’t know if your son and I are the part of my future I want us to be. I do know that if anyone can make it, it _is_ us. So when you ask me if I love your son like you’re demanding I promise you the impossible, I hope you understand I can tell you only the truth. I love Jughead,” She drew in a breath, “but you and I both know that’s not always enough.”

FP sat back with a sigh, looking at something some distance from his shoes. After a moment he nodded. “Son, I know what I am, don’t think I don’t, but whatever I can do for you, whatever I can give you – know it’s done. Know it’s given.’ He huffed out a bitter laugh. “And maybe you won’t be calling me up on date nights to watch the kids, but I’m here. For both of you.” He glanced down. “For all of you.” Her eyes welled up as she wished beyond wishing Jughead could have heard a single syllable of what his father had just said. “You got a good head on your shoulders, Kid.”

“He’ll be okay?” She asked, meaning many things at once.

“First time? What is he, 18? He won’t even have a hangover.” FP assured her, also meaning many things at once. She nodded, once to reassure herself, and then several more times when it didn’t work.

“I’d better be getting home, then.” She sniffled, but stood, smoothing her palms down over her skirt.

“I’ll walk you out.” FP stood, too, despite the door to the trailer being only feet away. When she opened the door, they seemed to realize at the same time she had walked to the trailer from Veronica’s apartment. “Here, Kid, I’ll drive you home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Course, I’m sure. Jug’ll be fine, and I-“ He nodded back to the half-full bottle on the counter. That’s all he’d had that night. She smiled, just barely.

“Thanks, Mr. Jones.”

“Please, Betty, FP.”

Her mom was awake when she got home, and the door opened before she could even lay a finger on the knob. “Look who’s decided to come home.” Her mother looked over her shoulder, giving a single, short nod to the man in the car behind her. She heard the car pull out behind her, the noise fading as it disappeared back into the night.

“I suppose you think you can do whatever you like now?”

Betty walked past her mother toward her room. She did not have the energy tonight. She caught sight of the clock by the stairs and corrected herself; She didn’t have the energy _this morning_.

“Sleep well, because we will be having words when you wake up.” Her mother warned. Betty closed her bedroom door.

Her phone had been blowing up since she’d left.

**Archie Andrews:**

**__**_Bettyy whre r u???_

_U okay?_

_Betsy?_

_AutocoREKT lol_

_B?_

_I shldnt hve let him drunk so mch_

_Pls text me_

**Veronica Lodge**

**__**_Text me when you’re home safe._

**Kevin Keller**

**__**_Something’s weird tonight. Do you know what’s going on?_

**Cheryl Blossom**

**__**_I ordered you a new uniform. Don’t worry about paying me back._

Betty laughed at Cheryl’s non-apology, though there was little mirth in the sound. She tapped out a quick response to the rest of her friends before shooting off a text to Jughead. _Home safe._ After a moment she added: _Love you._

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

He woke up severely dehydrated, but otherwise feeling much the way he did every time he woke up; tired, groggy, and much too awake.

When he stumbled from his room in a tank top and boxers, still rubbing at his eyes, he was almost stunned to see his father, not only awake before he was, but somehow neither drunk nor hungover.

“Dad?”

“Hey son.”

“What…” He wasn’t sure how to follow that up with, and groped helplessly for the rest of the sentence.

“Betty told me.”

It took him a second. “Oh.”

“She’s home safe, kid. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Fine.” Jughead was still standing, confused, in the doorway to his bedroom.

“I told her you would be. Do you want breakfast? There’s some frozen waffles I think. And you should get some fluids in you.”

“Uh, sure, yeah. Thanks.”

“Look, I’m not going to pretend I’ve got any credibility here. But you should talk to her.”

“I know.”

Jughead shuffled past his father to pour himself a glass of water. The older man followed close behind, opening the freezer to root around for breakfast. Jughead took a bracing breath.

“Was she - is she, did I-“ He wasn’t used to being at a loss for words. For one hysterical, panicked moment, he wondered if he’d lost his career in film, baby or no baby.

“You freaked her out a little, yeah. But she’s a smart kid. A smart kid who loves you a whole heck of a lot, son.”

“Yeah, I know.” There had been none of the wonder that soaked Jughead’s echoed words in his father’s voice, and for some reason that threw him even more. FP had always doted on Betty Cooper, if you could call teaching her how to ride a bike and throw a punch ‘doting’. How could he act like her loving him, being willing to give up her future for him, was just the natural, expected course of events when he knew better than anyone how little he deserved Betty Cooper?

“You sound shocked that the girl you’ve been with for two years still likes you, Jug.”

“I am.”

FP surprised him again, laughing as he rescued the waffles from the broken toaster. “That’s what love is like, I guess.”

Jughead blinked up at his suddenly charming, supportive, and sober father, feeling very small and very young. “Dad?”

The man looked at him, his full attention on waiting for Jughead to say whatever he was going to say. Jughead’s eyes pricked, and he swallowed. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re not, son. No one ever is, but if you can plan for a kid, get your financials straight, be somewhere you want to raise kids, with a person you want to raise them with, you’re usually pretty well off.”

“I can check off about one of those things.”

“I know, Jug.”

“I don’t know if I can give it up.”

FP smiled sadly. “Yours.” was all he said, a whisper.

“What do I do?”

“That’s up to you and Betty. Whatever you do, there will be life changing repercussions, now you’ve just got to choose which consequences are the best for you right now.”

Jughead swallowed again, hard, before digging into his freezer-burnt breakfast.

 

He’d called her, but her mom had answered. “Betty isn’t leaving her room this weekend. We’re trying to make sure it’s existence doesn’t… slip her mind, again.”

“Mrs. Cooper, I need to apologize to Betty, _please_.”

Alice Cooper’s voice softened, almost imperceptibly, but he’d gotten pretty good at reading the woman after dating her daughter for two years. “It’ll have to wait for Monday, Forsythe.”

“Could you tell her I called? And why? Could you at least tell her that?”

There was a torturous silence on the other end of the phone, but eventually the terrifying woman who had raised two equally terrifying women sighed. “I can do that.”

“Thank you Mrs. Cooper.”

“You stay straight, boy.” She reprimanded. “I don’t think my daughter’s letting you go any time soon. I’d hate to have to do anything to interfere.”

Jughead mulled over that for a second and decided it was a death threat.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good boy.”

She hung up.

Jughead drained his water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For everyone sticking with me, y'all mean the most. We're getting close to the end! (And this is me, completely totally definitely not begging for comments because I definitely totally completely don't survive on external validation no no no)
> 
> I hope everyone is making tome to take care of themselves!!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me - almost consistent or something!

Betty stared out her window, occasionally smiling softly in response to her best friend’s antics. Archie was familiar with Betty’s groundings, and he always had some charade show prepared for her. Right now he was strip dancing, badly, to music she couldn’t hear. When he tipped the chair backwards trying to twerk on it she finally cracked, laughing out loud. Archie got to his feet clumsily, turning to look at her. When he saw her laughing his face split into a grin and he tried to walk toward his phone, forgetting the pants around his ankles he hadn’t actually gotten around to taking off. Immediately he faceplanted again, and Betty howled with laughter. This time his grin was sheepish as he texted her, forgetting she didn’t have her phone.

He looked up, waiting for her to respond and she held her hands up with a shrug. His eyes widened and she saw him put the pieces together before he dove for his clothes.

“Betty?” Alice called up the stairs. “Why is Archie texting you, and I quote, ‘It’s so good to see you laugh again. I missed your smile’?”

Betty was laughing too hard to be upset at being caught out, though she should have known better. Archie was tripping clumsily over every article of clothing at he owned (conveniently strewn in a thick carpet across the floor) as he hastily shoved a leg into the arm of sweatshirt, falling over again, only to come up with a pair of jeans draped over his head.

“Just close your blinds you idiot.” She murmured to herself, as her mother came in behind her.

“Why is that Andrews boy half naked?” There was no humor in her mother’s voice.

“It’s his room mom, he’s got the right to, uh, do whatever that is, in the privacy of his own home.”

Her mother strode over and closed her blinds with a snap. “’Privacy’, being the operative word Elizabeth.”

Betty bit back the rest of her giggles, nodding solemnly.

“I hope this doesn’t mean you’re going back on that Jones boy.”

Betty stared at her mother as if she had suddenly been replaced by a stranger. “What?”

“He just called. He wanted to apologize. And here I was thinking he was the one who needed to.”

“You read the text. You know exactly what was happening.”

Her mother simply stared at her. “If someone had asked if you would ever run away from home to live in some trailer in the Southside I would have laughed at them. So I clearly don’t know you at all. Who knows what you were doing?”

“What do you want, Mom?”

“I want you home. If you’re not home, I am to know exactly where you are. If I tell you to come home, you come home. Curfew is at 7 on school nights, 9 on weekends. I schedule all your doctor’s appointments. I come to all your doctor’s appointments. You stay on honor roll. You stay on the Blue&Gold. The Jones boy _does not_ stay over. Is that clear?”

Betty’s fingers curled, and though her palms dripped, she didn’t seem to notice. “And if I behave myself?”

“You graduate.”

“I didn’t realize your promise was conditional.” Betty sneered. 

“I didn’t realize you were going to run away from home.”

“I can’t get pregnant _again_.”

“You’re under our roof, Elizabeth.”

“You know you keep talking about running away, it’s starting to give me ideas.”

“Our roof, our rules.” And though her mother’s voice was iron, Betty thought that, just maybe, she _was_ giving her ideas. As the older woman turned to leave Betty couldn’t help the squeak that escaped her.

“Dad?” 

Her mother stopped walking for the barest second. Her head moved infinitesimally, a gesture. Then she was gone, the phone left behind on top of the dresser. 

Betty sucked in a breath, and started packing. 

“Polly?”

“Hey Betty!” Her sister sounded so happy to hear from her, and she fought the pang of guilt. She really should try to call more, even if her dad did his best to ‘discourage _’_ their contact. “What’s up?”

“I ran away.”

The silence on the other end of the phone was filled by the beating of her own heart, too loud in her ears.

“Polly?”

“You what?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Can you- can you you take a break from dropping bombs and give me some context, please?”

“Mom warned me, sort of, about Dad, and now I don’t know what to do.”

“Do you need to come stay with me?”

“I’d like to graduate, if at all possible, and I don’t want to leave Jughead behind.”

“Can you stay with him?”

“And add another mouth to feed to that family? Take up more and more of his tiny twin bed in his tiny room? Where would I even put my stuff?”

“You have your stuff?”

“A suitcase.”

“That’s where you put your stuff. And you get a job, pull your own weight - you need the practice.”

“Since when did you become such a realist?”

“Since I became a mother. There’s no little farmhouse in the countryside, Betts.”

Betty took a deep breath, the edges of a plan grounding her, pulling herself back together.

“Where are you now?

“The train tracks.”

“Okay Little Miss 4.0, can you go somewhere you’re not going to be killed by stray fire in a drug deal gone wrong?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Do that. You’ve got an idea where you can get a job?”

“Yeah.” Betty nodded, realizing she did.

“Okay. Jughead needs to get one too. Save as much as you can. Diapers are expensive. So is everything else.”

Betty exhaled a breath, bursting into tears as her lungs bottomed out. “I don’t know if I’m keeping it, Polly.”

“What?” Somehow, this information seemed to shock her sister more than anything else she had said, or at least she was much more indignant.

“I’m not like you, I want, I want things, so many things, before I do this.”

“You’re going to give your baby to some _stranger_ then?”

“I don’t know if I can.” 

“Move up here when you graduate, bring good references, you and Juggie can find work just as well here, maybe even better. Y’all and the baby can stay as long as you like.”

“Is that good for _your_ kids?”

“They’ll love a little cousin. And I miss having a baby around.” The last part was almost a confession. 

“I don’t know if I can do that either, Polly.” Betty whispered, helplessness and honesty blending into one. She felt younger than she had in years.

“Go to Jughead’s now, Betty. Tell FP what’s going on. Ask if you can stay. Listen to what he says, he’s a much smarter man than he’s given credit for. Get a job. Get your feet under you. You’ll know what to do.”

“Will I?”

“You will.” Polly assured. “Mother’s intuition.”

“Keep me company on the walk?”

“Of course. Someone needs to know to call 911, don’t they?”

Betty laughed, mostly for the sake of laughing, wiping at her eyes. “How’s it going with with Paul?” 

“He’s canceled.” Her sister answered without missing a beat. “He kept saying he ‘didn’t mind’ the twins, but what he really meant was that he minded a lot. He didn’t want a family, and he didn’t want to date a mother.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. He wasn’t what I wanted either.”

“Are you still looking, then?”

It was Polly’s turn to laugh. “No, I thought I’d want someone, you know, to be that person Jason was going to be, but I don’t, not really. I just want to be with my kids, and edit my photography, and live this life that fell into my lap, almost literally.”

Betty scoffed at the joke. “So the job’s going well?”

“I’m still freelancing on the side, but yeah, my shots are in print. And we’re doing well, financially. Somehow.”

“That’s wonderful, Polly.” Betty said, meaning it. 

“It is.” Said Polly, also meaning it.

“Thank you.” 

“Anytime, Betts. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Neither Jughead nor his father was expecting the knock at the door, and certainly neither of them were expecting to open the door to a blonde girl gripping a suitcase standing in their doorway.

“I’m sorry.” were the first words out of her mouth, and Jughead crossed to her, running his hands over her like he was searching for injury. “I’m okay, Juggie.” She murmured, leaning into him. “My mom,” She was looking at FP now, who hadn’t moved from the counter, miraculously still sober. “She warned me. Sort of. My father must have found out. I-I can’t stay at home.”

Wordlessly, Jughead took her suitcase, pulling it to his room, using the movement to hide his face as he processed the information. Part of him felt bad, leaving her in the doorway, but he couldn’t think of a more productive option he was capable of at the moment. 

He was going to be living with his girlfriend. His pregnant girlfriend. His mouth twitched, first up, then down, as if unsure exactly where it stood at the news. 

His girlfriend was going to be living with his father. His alcoholic father. He squashed down the small furl of hope that bloomed at the thought of the past few days, he knew better than to expect anything but the same repetitive cycle. 

When he stepped into his room, it looked somehow smaller than it ever had before, and that was saying something. He slid her suitcase into the corner, listening to the voices that floated in behind him.

“We ain’t got much, kid, but you’re welcome to it.” His father’s voice; defensive, kind, fond. 

“I’m getting a job. I can pull my own weight, Mr. Jones.” Betty; firm, exhausted.

“FP.” Respect, relief. Then, “You get on to bed, girl, a full night’s sleep will do you good.”

A beat. “Thank you.”

Jughead closed his eyes, picturing his father’s stoic nod, the pain he’d hide in his eyes. Footsteps sounded, soft, behind him. 

“Juggie?” Her voice was achingly quiet, and he almost didn’t turn around. 

“I’m scared.” He hadn’t meant to say it.

“Me too.” 

It wasn’t until she had pulled him into her, onto the bed, into her lap, that he felt the tears on his cheeks, and it was then that he broke. His ribs wracked with sobs, his lungs and throat burn, and snot and spit smears into the soft threads of her sweater while she just rocks and rocks, rubbing his back and humming. 

“I know, Baby.” He hears her murmuring. “I know.”

He wakes up curled into her, her limbs arranged around him protectively. “Morning, Juggie.” She’s already awake.

“Morning Betts.” He rasps through cottonmouth and the sleep still weighing his eyelids. 

“I could get used to this.” She moans, stretching, and he hears her joints pop.

“Yeah.” He says, and mostly means it. 

“I talked to my sister.”

It’s like, way too early for this shit, Jughead thinks, but he manages to grunt in response.

“She says we can move in with her after graduation. If we start working now we’ll have references when we leave, and our diplomas.”

“Is that what you want to do?” He asks, accepting he won’t be going back to sleep this morning. 

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah.”

“We’ve got good transcripts. We could probably get something entry level with the opportunity to move up.”

“We could.”

“But we wouldn’t be writing.”

“In our spare time?”

“What spare time? Jug, we’ll be parents.”

“Neither of us even know how to do that.”

“No but we’ve got four solid examples of how not too. And Fred.”

“And Fred.”

Monday came and the world still swirled beneath their feet. Sometimes he felt that the only things standing still in the universe were him and Betty, and sometimes he thought it must be everything else standing still, and them spiraling recklessly through orbit. He gripped her hand tighter, though she had made no effort to remove it. 

“You ready?” He asked knowing neither of them could really answer that question. 

“For Chuck Clayton?” She scoffed, with a confidence he could only marvel at, but squeezed his hand back. “We graduate in three months. I’ve survived worse hells than this.”

“Than high school? I don’t think there is a worse hell than this.”

“Wanna go be a child soldier in the Congo? Test your theory?”

“Not really.”

She grinned at him and his stomach flipped. He wondered if there would ever come a time where a twitch of her lips didn’t have his insides line-dancing. He felt himself returning the look, prompting her to push onto tiptoes, pressing her lips to the corner of his smile. It was a quick move, a turn that left her ponytail swinging, but it had him grinning in earnest and he tugged on the end of her hair playfully, just for the sake of touching some part of her. 

Since the murder that turned their town upside down their lives had settled into an easy rhythm, a happiness had found Jughead he’d never had before, and sharing it with Betty, the prime object of his happiness, had been two years of silk and velvet piled on a bond forged by trial and tribulation. He supposed that was the cushion they were falling on now, why the floor dropping away hadn’t hurt so bad when they’d landed in reality. It had been a relatively short amount of time, but already these moments felt like long-lost pinpricks of sunny skies of days past. 

“Come on, Teammate, let’s go knock ‘em dead.” 

“Is that how the Vixens talk to each other?”

“No, you’re just special.”

The school didn’t actually fall _silent_ when they rode in, but upon entering the building there did seem to be a lot of staring, before the student body collectively seemed to remember themselves, turning away to whisper their gossip quietly, as was the polite custom. 

“See this isn’t so bad.” Betty chirped brightly at his side, taking his hand in hers once again. 

Jughead wasn’t convinced this was the worst of it, and his fears seemed to be confirmed when they just happened to “run into” Archie and Veronica in the hall. 

“Hey guys! Ready for class?” Archie’s voice was both too high and too loud. Beside him, Betty cocked her head, the telltale sign that someone, or something, had her full attention.

“What is it, Arch?”

“Nothing to worry about, Bettykins.” Veronica’s smile was much more natural than that of the boy beside her, which meant precisely nothing. “Let’s go, we shouldn’t be late for class.”

“Yeah, I just need to drop my books off real quick.”

“Oh, I don’t think you have time for that today, the two of you must have been taking your time this morning.” Veronica smirked, rounding out her gentle nudging toward the adjacent hallway with a wink.

“What is it, V?” Betty sounded impatient now, but Jughead caught the worry in her voice.

“Like I said, nothing to worry about.” Veronica soothed, trying to take her friend by the arm. Betty shrugged her off, striding forward with a sudden determination as she pushed past Archie’s attempts to block her. 

Jughead followed helplessly, wanting nothing more than to leave it be, never see whatever awaited them, go home to his tiny twin bed and watch netflix for the rest of their lives and never face the world ever again. He reconsidered that line of thought immediately, thinking of all the places he would never get to see Betty explore. 

A crowd had surrounded Betty’s locker, reminding him of a situation very similar years prior. He braced himself. 

As if sensing their arrival, a path parted, allowing a full view of the redecoration. Reggie and Cheryl, to Jughead’s great surprise, each held a trashcan full to the brim with torn strips of spray painted paper, the words they’d once held no longer legible, but what the two had yet to remove remained perfectly clear. 

He felt Betty stiffen, but knew she wouldn’t cry out, wouldn’t let a tear drop in front of an audience, but he felt the same panic, the same pain, at the scene before them. 

Taped to the ceiling a thin line of rope hung, wrapped around the throat of a naked, tattered babydoll. On her locker, red and dripping, “They’re Breedin-” hung limply, almost completely torn away. Cheryl and Reggie, finally noticing the silence that had fallen turned slowly. Jughead caught something close to emotion in the redhead’s face and he nodded to her, once, swallowing hard. 

As silently as they had approached, he and Betty turned and left. He, pulling Betty behind him, Betty, dragging limply. Her chin was raised, and her eyes fierce, if shining, he noted when he glanced back, and he couldn’t help the swell of pride that he got to be the one beside her, to witness the depth of her strength. She sure as hell shouldn’t have to, but his girl could take anything and come out on top. 

He pulled her into the office of the Blue &Gold, a place that had been sanctuary so many times before, welcoming them into a cushion of solitude once again. 

“Are you going to class?”

He wasn’t sure why those were the first words out of his mouth, only that those were the words that had come. She nodded, lips bitten red, and he reached for her hands, massaging them open. 

“Okay.”

After a moment, her eyes raised to meet his, and he marveled at how purely _green_ they were.

“Where are you at?” She whispered, and he knew she was thinking of the booth at Pop’s, and the way his body had trembled with rage. 

“I’m going to do something dumb, but later, when I’ve thought about it.”

She seemed to think about this for a moment before nodding again. “I’ll help.”

“I was counting on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are being kind to yourselves. You deserve to be treated with love!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finishing a fic if it kills me, alright? It's happening. More to come (and soon this time, I promise)

 

During class Betty took her usual perfect notes on Shakespeare and derivatives, but behind the furrow in her brow she was working furiously on the “something dumb” she had promised Jughead. Doing her best to channel Alice Cooper, Betty began to make a list of the evidence, and the usual suspects, casing out the targets for whatever vengeance her boyfriend dreamed up. Since Chuck had preemptively confessed, she had a good idea of where to start, but she wanted to be sure no one who didn’t deserve it was caught in the fallout. 

“Betty!” She started at the sound of her own name ringing out.

“Yes, Archie?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, Archie.”

“I signed us up to be partners.”

Betty sighed, and passed Archie her notes.

She could feel the eyes on her, couldn’t help but be grateful for Archie’s presence, warm and comforting beside her. There were whispers too, ones that didn’t care if they were heard or not.

“Serpent slut.”

“I heard she poked holes in the condoms to get back at her daddy for sending Polly away.”

“It’s the Cooper curse.”

“Wait until they see what Reggie left for them.”

They’d been smart enough to park the bike several blocks away, in the driveway of a woman Betty had used to babysit for, before the kids were too old to need it anymore. There was no way Reggie would have known that’s where it would be, which meant it was something else.

Beside her Archie grew more and more tense, his knuckles whitening, until the pencil inside his fist snapped. Still, for a moment he didn’t let go, and blood welled in the creases between his fingers. She laid a hand on his arm and waited until he looked at her.

“It’s okay.” She whispered. “None of them matter.” Keeping her eyes locked on his, she took his arm and wrapped it around her. He pulled her close automatically and she leaned in, let him be her support for a moment, knowing she was holding him together as much as he was holding her up.

“I want to kill them Betty.”

“And they probably want to kill me, Archie, but not everything has to be life or death.”

“SLUT!” Someone coughed behind them, but she wouldn’t let go of the redhead’s arm, even though she registered the blood he was smearing on her Vixen’s uniform. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

 

“So far I’ve got itching powder, liquid ass, and fake vomit.”

“Betty,” Jughead looked her dead in the eye, “That’s pretty lame.”

“Yeah, we’ve strayed far afield from my areas of expertise.”

“Honestly? Mine too.”

Archie piped up, his mouth, per usual, full, “You could always fuck with their cars.”

Betty’s eyes widened at the tried-and-true suggestion.

“That _is_ your area of expertise.” Jughead nodded. “And Lord knows they fuck with my bike enough.”

Veronica slid into the seat across from him, next to Betty. “The two of you have bigger things to worry about.”

“Like what?” He mumbled through a mouth full of burger.

They were eating in the library, which wasn’t technically allowed, but the librarian had taken one look at their sorry group with their bagged lunches and waved them through. It was the only spot on school grounds they could even try to eat in peace.

The dark haired girl rolled her eyes, “Like the baby your girlfriend’s making? Or impending graduation? Or the fact college acceptance letters are arriving in a couple weeks?”

“Okay, but other than that.” He grinned, crumbs flying.

“V, I don’t think college is in the cards for us right now.” Betty said gently, as if it were Veronica’s bad news she were breaking.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Do you really think Betty Cooper and Forsythe Jones, of all people, are incapable of figuring out a simple thing like life balance?”

“Veronica, we can’t just let them get away with this!” Archie seemed horrified at the prospect of failing to bring the villains to justice.

“Of course not, dear, but that’ll be our job.”

“What are you going to do?” Betty sounded wary.

“Don’t you worry about a thing. Cheryl and I got it all figured out.”

 

“Look Juggie, at this point, I’m not going to ask any questions, but I don’t want to let our friends fight all our battles for us.”

“Then we won’t.”

They were home again, sitting on opposite ends of his bed, two hours deep in homework. It was the first time either of them had spoken since she’d climbed off his bike and walked in the door.

“I want to do this our way.” For a moment, he just looked at her, trying to parse out what she could mean. His thinking face was so serious, she almost cracked a smile watching the gears turn.

“You want to write them into retribution?” His tone of voice indicated pretty clearly that even if he had made it to the same page as her he wasn’t sure he was in the right book.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I do.”

“Who’s going to print it? The Blue&Gold isn’t exactly the talk of the town Betts, and I can’t imagine your parents helping us right now.”

“It’s not my parent’s I’m going to ask.” She winked at him, changing the subjec. “I have a present for you.”

He seemed reluctant to be distracted, but his interested seemed peaked despite his best intentions. “Yeah?”

She nodded, biting her lip. She was pretty proud of herself for this one actually. Crawling across the blank patch of bedspread that separated them she leaned in to press her lips against his. He took her in easily, moving his school work to one side, some of it cascading messily to the floor beneath them as he made space for her, warm hands coming up to press firm on her waist, pull her closer and closer until she’s straddling him.

“This is a good present, Baby.” He murmurs the words into the soft skin behind her ear, let’s his teeth graze lightly against the bottom curve, mouths his way lightly up. Her own palms have splayed out flat against his chest, her finger tips digging into his flesh through his t-shirt. Her hips roll involuntarily, heat surprising her as it rolls through her core. She almost forgets his actual gift.

“Jughead Jones,” She admonishes sternly, “What kind of girl do you take me for?” She sits back, forcing distance between their bodies even as the lowest parts of her brain howl in protest. “I have something else for you.”

He cocks his head at her, a light smile playing against his lips, just looking. It’s ridiculous for her to feel embarrassed in front of him, and she’s not, not really, but she does feel her face begin to flush, and she bites the inside of her cheek automatically as she drops her gaze away from his. Gentle fingers catch beneath her chin and tilt her face to his. For a moment, he holds them there, less by the force of his fingers, and more by the force of his eyes – and what’s behind them. They’re captured by a stillness that surrounds them, catching them in a space between heartbeats.

She really shouldn’t be surprised anymore, but the hot pricks in the corner of her eyes manage anyway, and she blinks, overwhelmed by the way the air between them has gone solid. He’s the one who leans in the time, curving his body so his mouth can meet hers. The moment lingers as time catches up to them.

He pulls away, and his fingers drop from her chin, only to lift again, push her hair behind her ears. It’s down. It almost always is when they’re home now.

“What’d you bring me?”

Trust Juggie to have a one track mind.

“Well,” She turned, rooted in her bag briefly before withdrawing a sheaf of papers, “I wrote your English outline for tomorrow, and I collected and organized your sources, so you have time to work on your screenplay today, while I go look for a job.”

He looked over her work, even though both of them knew he didn’t need to.

“You don’t have to worry about the writing style sounding like yours, it’s just an outline.” She assured, preventing his protests before he could make them. Through the blinds, the sunlight was beginning to dampen from yellow to orange, the darker tinge enough to set her internal clock ringing. She leaned down, pressing a quick peck to her boyfriend’s lips.

He grinned. “You’re the best.”

“I’ll be back before dark. I except ten pages by dinner!” She called over her shoulder.

“Ten pages? That’s a whole day’s work, Betty.”

“Good thing you’re a prodigy then!”

And with that, the door the trailer closed behind her, and she hopped on her boyfriend’s bike and drove away.

She loved when she got to drive the bike. Riding the back was always fun, her arms wrapped around Jughead, her ponytail flying behind her, their speed catching up to them around corners, but driving brought with it a new kind of bird in her belly, one that dove toward the concrete just to pull up at the last second toward the sky.

A matching motorcycle weaves its way up the hill, pulling along the yellow line like a tightrope. She recognizes a boy with black hair and a face that belied his youth. Behind him auburn curls swirl, and tanned arms wrap around his waist. He nods to her, and she knows he must have recognized her too. She nods back. The wind must be knitting knots into the tan girl’s hair. She reaches an absent hand to her ponytail, as if to assure herself that she won’t meet the same fate. By then they’ve gone, a gust of wind and fragment of laughter left in their wake.

She passes a sedan. The olive green of the paint hasn’t aged well and it looks encrusted with dust and mold, rather than just aging and sun-bleached. They honk angrily as she curves too-close to the front of their bumper, revving her engine and picking up speed at the last second.

She doesn’t stop until she reaches the parking lot of Pop’s. Swinging a leg over to sit sidesaddle she dials the familiar number, relieved when Polly picks up on the first try.

“What’s wrong?” The first words out of her sister’s mouth bring a small pang of guilt in the left of her belly, just below the bottom of her ribcage. She crosses a protective arm around her middle..

“Nothing. Or, nothing with the baby at least.”

“Okay.” There’s a pause, and Betty imagines her sister making the twin’s dinner, hiding carrot puree in cheese, slipping peas into the macaroni. It’s how mom used to do things. The three were more similar than any of them cared to admit. “So what’s wrong?”

“I wanted to run something by you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all for you continued support I have been reading your comments and I love you for them. As always, I'd love to hear what you think.

**Author's Note:**

> Sending my love and positive vibes!


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